


Out of Body

by SatyrSyd37



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (for bokuaka), ADHD, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Mental Health Issues, POV Multiple, Science Fiction, Trans Character, Trans Oikawa Tooru, Unwind AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-10 20:02:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 142,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8937079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SatyrSyd37/pseuds/SatyrSyd37
Summary: Bokuto Koutarou’s parents decide to unwind him on his 17th birthday. While running away to avoid his fate, Bokuto meets many fellow-unwinds, including the mysterious Akaashi Keiji. Tsukishima Kei has always hated unwinding, and refuses to let his best friend succumb to the system like his brother did. Oikawa Tooru respects the unwinding institution. But when his boyfriend is taken away to be unwound, he must question that system and his beliefs.This is a future where, when a child reaches the age of 14, they can be “unwound” - all of their body parts will be used in organ transplant. With the adults turning a blind eye and society working against them, teens must ban together to fight for their lives.





	1. Introductions

**Author's Note:**

> hello hello hello! oh my gosh i am so excited for this fic. [Unwind by Neal Shusterman](https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/764347.Unwind?ac=1&from_search=true) is one of my all-time FAVORITE books, and if you've never read it before you totally should, though it won't be necessary for your understanding of this fic (though there might be some sort-of spoilers, as there will be several similar plot points) 
> 
> my excuse for writing this is it's an exercise in world-building, in one of the most rich, elaborate, and realistic worlds i've ever had the pleasure of reading about. so, if you have any critiques for me about the world-building, i'd love to hear it!!
> 
> (for those who have read it, this takes place in the same universe as Unwind, a little after the beginning of the first book, but in Japan, where the Unwind Accord has also been adopted)
> 
> fyi, there will be multiple POV switches. even though the first chapter has several POVs, ~~the other chapters will probably be just 1 or 2 POVs and short so I can update sooner.~~
> 
>  ~~I'm going to try and get a chapter out weekly, but no guarentees. tis the college life, my friends.~~ lmaoooooo that was funny, right? updates will be sporadic but im continuously working on this!!
> 
> (beta'ed by bananaman)

**i. Bokuto Koutarou**

_(Sept. 20)_

The station is unfamiliar and booming with distractions. Bokuto’s fingers tap nervously on his handcuffs, the smooth metal surface cold against his skin. His eyes flicker back and forth, following the Juvey-cops that pass by him. Their pace is quick and their posture is high-and-mighty. He’s sitting in a makeshift jail cell - really, it’s just a small room with a line of chairs, and a wall of glass so the Juvey-cops can keep watch over them. There’s a clock right above him that ticks loudly. One of the Juvey-cops, with bright red hair that sticks straight up, sits outside the cell, whistling. Judging by his age, he’s still in training. There’s only one other person in the room, another boy around his age, sitting a few chairs away. But he’s completely silent as he stares blankly out at the office in front of them.

Blue uniforms with red accents flash past him. A murmur of sound makes its way through the glass walls, ebbing away and growing again in waves. The handcuffs feel heavy on his wrists.  

There’s too much movement, too many distractions for him to collect his thoughts.

And boy, is there a lot to think about.

Bokuto leans back in his chair and closes his eyes. He grabs onto the handcuff on his left wrist and twists it back and forth to the beat of the ticking clock.

Tick _-swish_

Tick _-swish_

Tick _-swish_

Bokuto’s parents decided to unwind him on his seventeenth birthday.

That’s today - his 17th birthday. A week ago, he was planning on hanging out with his friends at the mall, and later coming back home to eat dinner with his parents. They hadn’t said anything about it, but he had been sure they were planning something. He was so sure, that when he heard them whispering to each other late one night, he couldn’t help but eavesdrop.

They were planning a surprise for him. Only it wasn’t a party or a present - they were planning his unwinding.

“It’s just become too much,” his mother had said.

“I agree. This has got to stop. He’s getting himself into too much trouble. It’s not good for him, or for us,” his dad had said.

“Unwinding is the best solution.”

“Plus, his physique will make us a decent profit. Even if his brain won’t.”

Bokuto planned his escape that night. He packed his bags with all the clothes and Ritalin he could fit, and decided that when he walked out his door the next morning for school, he was never coming back. Even if most unwinds who ran were caught by the Juvey-cops, he had to try. Because they hated him - his parents hated him enough to sign the unwind order - and he couldn't spend another moment with them knowing that.

But when he walked downstairs the next morning, he saw his living room filled with navy blue and red. Half a dozen Juvey-cops were standing in his living room. And in the middle of the bunch, his parents. His mom was crying.

 _We’re sorry,_ she had said, her voice cracking.

He should have ran. He would have ran, but he was so overwhelmed, with all the navy blue and red and the tears and the voices and the hurt - the pain in his chest that was stronger than any other stimulation because the Juvey-cops were here and how could his parents have known he knew? They said they wouldn’t unwind him for another week, but here they were, ready to take him away. He wasn’t coming back to this house, but it wouldn’t be by his own volition.

Unable to move, he had simply stared at them while the Juvies hauled him down the stairs and wrapped his arms behind his back.

_We’re sorry -_

_We couldn’t - h-handle you anymore -_

_The ADHD has gotten out of hand, son -_

_You’re a danger to yourself and others -_

_We only want what’s best for you -_

_And we think you’ll be happier now -_

Lies. The words ran through his ears, each a stab to the heart, and Bokuto was so overwhelmed - it was too much - and when they hauled him out the door, out of his own home, he lashed out. He doesn’t remember it clearly, but he thinks the Juvies hit him with a tranquilizer dart once he started screaming.

And now he’s here, in the Juvey-cop station, waiting for a bus to take him to his unwinding.

The handcuffs around his wrist jangle.

Tick _-swish_

Tick _-swish_

Tick _-swish_

How did it come to this? How could unwinding have become such a core part of society?

Hell, who’s he kidding. He knows why as well as anyone does.

Several decades ago, the science of neurografting was perfected, allowing every single part of the human body to be safely and successfully transplanted. After a nasty civil war fought over abortion, the United States adopted the Unwind Accord, a law that stated that, though children could not be aborted, between the ages of fourteen and eighteen, teenagers could be ‘unwound’ - every part of their body would divided up and used in organ transplant. Technically, since each part of their body would be living, the children wouldn’t be dead.

That was the beginning of unwinding, an industry that boomed massively in the U.S., leading to medical miracles and economic success, at the expense of unruly teenagers whose parents were at a loss. After seeing the success of United States, Japan adopted its own version of the Unwind Accord in order to deal with the growing population problem. Children, for whatever reason, could be unwound at their parent’s request, and contribute to an organ bank that would save thousands - millions - of lives.

And that’s where Bokuto was headed.

But he didn’t want to be unwound.

He’s going to get out here, and he’s going to survive until he’s eighteen and they can no longer unwind him.

Tick _-swish_

Tick _-swish_

Tick _-_

“Could you stop that?”

Bokuto snaps his eyes open and turns to the boy next to him. He’s been so still, Bokuto almost forgot he was there.

“Sorry.” Bokuto releases his hold on the handcuff. With nothing to occupy his attention, Bokuto starts looking around outside again, at the office of busy Juvey-cops. The Japanese Juvenile Control Force was modeled after the U.S.’s National Juvenile Authority. A division of cops whose sole responsibility was to catch unwinds who went AWOL and bring them to the harvest camps to be unwound.  

The Juvey-cop outside their cell lets out of long, low whistle, and turns around and looks at him. His lips curl into a smirk. Bokuto glares at him until another Juvey, blonde hair with black tips, passes by and smacks the first Juvey in the shoulder.  

Bokuto has only seen Juvey-cops a couple of times before now. Sometimes on the streets, once when they took a kid from his school. But now, a field of navy blue and red was all he could see. Aside from the boy next to him.

Bokuto peaks out of the corner of his eye to get a better look at him. He’s tall - but smaller than Bokuto. His short, curly black hair frames his round face, that sits in a neutral, stoic expression. _Just like a statue,_ he thinks, _like a handsome face carved into marble. Beautiful and cold as stone_. Bokuto is just noticing his eyes are green when the boy turns and faces him.

“What?” he asks.

And now Bokuto sees that he is absolutely gorgeous.

“I - um - ”

“Why were you staring at me?” the boy asks calmly.

Bokuto swallows. His eyes flicker down to the boy’s lap, where his hands rest daintily on his thighs, as if his handcuffs are a mere accessory. “No reason…”

Bokuto slides a seat closer to him, and holds out his hands.

“Sorry about that,” he says. “I’m Bokuto Koutarou.”

The boy stares at him blankly. Bokuto holds his hands out for a moment longer, waiting for the boy to reciprocate his handshake.  

Right as it’s starting to get weird, the boy reaches out and grabs one of his hands. It’s kind of difficult, to shake hands when they both have handcuffs on. “...I’m Akaashi,” the boy says.

Bokuto pulls his hand back into his lap, and starts fidgeting with his cuffs again. Akaashi’s hand is surprisingly warm for someone who gives off such a cold demeanor. “Nice to meet you,” Bokuto says.

“...likewise. I guess.”

A moment of silence, and then Akaashi talks again.

“You...don’t recognize me?”

Bokuto faces him, and examines his face again. Does he recognize Akaashi? No - he’s sure he would remember a face this beautiful. “Um, no, should I…? Crap, have we met before and I forgot? That happens sometimes, I’m sorry - ”

“That’s not it. We haven’t met before,” Akaashi says, cutting him off.

“Oh. Nevermind, then. But why…?”

“No reason.”

Bokuto knows that’s not the truth, and he wants to press him more, because what if Bokuto did forget and Akaashi was just trying to make him feel better and -

A flash of red out of the corner of his eye steals his attention. It’s just a Juvey-cop passing by. He looks back around the office. There are less cops around now. Bokuto wonders where they’re all going.

The clock ticks louder. Bokuto taps the handcuffs, producing a jingle. Then he stops, remembering that it annoyed Akaashi before. He taps his fingers together silently instead.

“Hey Akaashi. Why’re you being unwound?” Bokuto blurts.

Akaashi looks a bit affronted at Bokuto’s sudden personal question, but he answers, as calmly as ever, “A number of reasons.”

That’s not quite an answer. “What kind of reasons?”

“The typical ones.”

Unwinds are unwinds because they were unwanted, unmanageable, or profitable. Or some combination of the three. Parents receive a percentage of the money their child’s parts sell for. The more their child’s parts are worth - because of an intelligent mind, a beautiful face, a well-muscled body - the more their guardians receive.

His father’s words ring in his ears: _Plus, his physique will make us a decent profit. Even if his brain won’t._

When Bokuto first heard that, he boiled with rage. But now, he doesn’t feel anything close to that. He only feels disappointment with himself. Maybe, if he had been a better son, if he had tried harder, if his brain wasn’t messed up, his parents would have loved him -

“I’m being unwound because I’m a burden,” Bokuto tells Akaashi. Some part of his brain is telling him not to tell Akaashi this, it’s too personal and Akaashi didn’t ask, but Bokuto’s mouth keeps moving. “I have ADHD, and like, that’s hard on my parents. I don’t do really well in school because I can’t focus, and even with the tutors they hired I couldn’t get my grades up. Plus I get into fights sometimes. It’s not my fault, though! Usually. It’s just some people are really mean, you know, and _someone_ has to do something about it. Or else those kids are going to keep on being mean. And plus I had outbursts and stuff sometimes. All the stimulation can get to me sometimes. A lot of times. Especially at school. It’s hard to focus. That’s why I was doing that thing before! With the handcuffs. It helps me relax, kinda. Sorry it was annoying.”

 _Oh crap, I said too much again._ Bokuto sinks into his chair, and makes to apologize, when Akaashi says, “Oh. I’m sorry I asked you to stop. If it helps you, you can do it again.”

Bokuto sits back up. “Really? You’re sure you don’t mind?”

“I didn’t know, before,” Akaashi says. “Go ahead.”

 _Akaashi’s nice,_ Bokuto decides. He’s glad to have someone as calming to be around as Akaashi by his side while he’s here.

Bokuto grabs the cuff and starts twisting it back and forth. It’s soothing, but not as soothing as talking to Akaashi. He tells him so.

“Bokuto-san...don’t you think this is all a little pointless?” Akaashi says.

“Pointless? What do you mean?” he asks.

Akaashi laughs. It’s more of a huff of breath than a laugh, though. “We’re going to be unwound, Bokuto-san. At the end of the day, the Juvies are going to send us off to harvest camp. And then all of this - talking, getting to know each other - will be irrelevant.”

Akaashi sounds so hopeless, it’s almost infectious. It makes Bokuto sad for Akaashi, sad that he’s letting them take him so easily.

Bokuto was planning on escaping alone. But two’s better than one, right?

He scoots up to the edge of his seat, twisting the cuff faster. “I’m gonna escape,” he tells Akaashi. “You should try to escape with me. Then our introduction won’t be meaningless.”

Akaashi looks up at him, his green eyes narrowed in doubt. “Do you really think we can escape from this?”

“We have to try.” Bokuto gives him his best smile. “Please?”

Akaashi grins, only slightly, but it’s the first time Bokuto’s seen him smile and it sends his heart aflutter. “Okay, Bokuto-san. I’ll try.”

 

 

**ii. Tsukishima Kei**

_(Sept. 20)_

_He’s walking through a crosswalk, sardined bodies crashing against him as he maneuvers through the crowd. His eyes flit back and forth across the sea of heads, until he catches sight of a familiar brown halo of flyaway locks._

_Tsukishima would recognize that head of hair anywhere._

_“Yamaguchi,” he calls, but his friend doesn’t turn around. He lunges through the crowd to catch up with him, fighting stray limbs to grab his best friend by the shoulder._

_“Yamaguchi, why - ”_

_Tsukishima’s words catch in his throat when Yamaguchi turns around._

_Only it’s not Yamaguchi. It’s a stranger’s face with Yamaguchi’s hair._

_Tsukishima jumps back, swallowing a scream. “No...no…!”_

_Someone crashes into him, nearly knocking him backward, and a hand shoots out to steady him. Tsukishima looks at the hand on his arm, at slender, dark, freckled fingers that wrap around his bicep, and looks up to see -_

_A strange woman with a strange face. “Sorry, I didn’t see you there…”_

_But Tsukishima’s already backing away, stumbling into countless bodies, his stomach turning at the sight of his friend’s hands attached to strange arms. No, no, this can’t be happening -_

_He scans the crowd, desperate to find Yamaguchi, he has to be in this crowd somewhere, alive and whole. He has to be._

_He feels a prickle on the back of his neck, and swivels around, his gold eyes locking onto brown ones. “Yama - ”_

_“What are you looking at?” says the owner of the eyes, in a voice two octaves too deep._

_The bodies pack tighter and tighter together and Tsukishima is sucked in, skin swiping against sweaty skin, bodies knocking together, feet clacking in a symphony that’s drowned out by a choir of voices._

_A freckled cheek. A flash of neck. A familiar gait. Yamaguchi is here, he’s here but he’s in pieces -_

_No, no, no, NO -_

_“Tsukki…!” Yamaguchi’s voice calls to him from somewhere far, far away, too far from the rest of him to possibly be real -_

 

Tsukishima opens his eyes. He sits up with a start, still breathing hard. His hair sticks to his forehead, and his shirt clings to his back; he must have been sweating.

He looks around his room, still dark in the early morning, and his eyes fall on the calendar.

September 20th. Seven weeks and two days until November 10th. He still has time.

He takes a deep breath, and lies back down.

Tsukishima always knew his best friend Yamaguchi was a tithe. That when he turned fourteen years old, he would be sent off to be unwound, and Tsukishima would never see him again. At least, not all of him. It’s always a possibility that he’ll run into some part of Yamaguchi - without the rest of him. Those visions fueled his nightmares for years when he was younger.

Now they’re back, and worse than before.

He thought he came to terms with Yamaguchi’s inevitable unwinding a long time ago. He’s always found the practice of tithing abhorrent; of all the customs Japan had adopted from the United State’s culture of unwinding, this was surely the most despicable. Tithes are tithes from birth; children whose parents decided, before they were born, that their child - a living, breathing, human life - was their charity. A donation, usually religious, where the donation - a child - would grow up knowing that at the age of fourteen, they would be unwound. Tsukishima thinks it’s cruel. He told Yamaguchi so when they first met, but Yamaguchi only smiled at him and told him that he would be glad to give his life in order to save countless others. Yamaguchi was proud to be a tithe, and accepted - no, _embraced_ \- his role as a sacrifice. Ever since meeting him in elementary school and somehow becoming best friends, Tsukishima had bugged him about it, but this was the one subject he wouldn’t budge on. So, he just accepted it, same as Yamaguchi.

That was before Akiteru.

Akiteru, his older brother, who had left him two years ago. Had left him alone with their parents, after they decided to have Akiteru unwound.

Tsukishima hadn’t seen it coming. He had no clue about his brother’s plummeting grades, his ditching clubs and activities, his fights with their parents. He didn’t know how bad it was until Akiteru was gone. Just one day - poof. Gone. Out of his life forever.

“He was having a hard time,” his mother told him.

“He was going down the wrong path,” his father said.

“We were saving him from himself.”

“He’ll be happier in a divided state.”

“This way he’ll be saving lives. You know how he loved to help people.”

“Even if he never succeeded.”

“He loved you, Kei.”

But that love wasn’t enough. Not for his parents.

Tsukishima didn’t even get to say goodbye. Akiteru hadn’t even bothered that morning the Juvies came for him. No final words, no last hug - nothing. Tsukishima can’t even remember the last thing he said to his brother. Tsukishima hated him for that.

That wasn’t the worst part, though. The worst part, the thing Tsukishima hated most of all, was that Akiteru hadn’t fought back. Akiteru didn’t even try to fight, to run away, to save his own life. He let himself be taken away like his life didn’t matter, like Tsukki’s love for him didn’t matter.

Tsukishima had never approved of unwinding. He never understood how adults could look at teenagers - mere fourteen year olds - and let them be torn to pieces under the guise that “they aren’t technically dead.”

Bullshit.

After Akiteru disappeared, his hatred for unwinding only grew worse. And with that, a renewed hatred for tithing. Tithing isn’t a common practice - Yamaguchi is the only tithe he knows - but it’s the worst form of unwinding. Making kids happy, _proud_ , to lose their lives by the command of their guardians. Tsukishima knew of unwinds that ran away, AWOLs, that fought tooth and nail to avoid being unwound. Tithes walked right to their deaths, as oblivious as pigs raised for slaughter.

Maybe Tsukishima would have let Yamaguchi go through with it if Akiteru hadn’t disappeared. But he doesn’t think that’s the case. Tsukishima’s grown close to Yamaguchi. Despite his nonchalant appearance, sharp tongue, and bitter nature, Yamaguchi had torn down his walls and carved a place in his heart deeper than any scalpel could penetrate. He hated to admit it, but it was true. His nightmares proved it.

He can’t lose Yamaguchi. He can’t let his friend walk to his death, like he let Akiteru walk to his.

Light begins to shine through his window, and Tsukishima finally rises out of bed. He reaches for his glasses and the side table and grabs a pair of pants to throw on. Then he goes into the back of his closet and pulls out the biggest backpack he owns, the one he usually uses for camping, and starts packing as many clean clothes as he can fit in it.

In seven weeks and two days, Tsukishima will lose his best friend. And his best friend’s going to let it happen.

But Tsukishima isn’t.

 

**iii. Oikawa Tooru**

_(Sept. 20)_

“I, Oikawa Tooru, am the best boyfriend anyone could ever ask for.”

Iwaizumi snorts. “More like the most narcissistic.”

“Mean, Iwa-chan!”

“It’s not mean if it’s the truth.”

Oikawa elbows him, and Iwaizumi tries to push him off the bed, but Oikawa wraps his long limbs around his boyfriend’s body like an octopus. He squeezes his legs around Iwaizumi’s waist and caresses his shoulders while Iwaizumi swats at him like a pesky fly.

“Get off me, Shittykawa!”

“Admit it, you love me~”

“Of course I do, Tooru,” Iwaizumi says sincerely. “You know that.”

Oikawa buries his face into Iwaizumi’s chest before he can see how red it is. Oikawa prides himself on being cool and collected - it’s one of the charming assets of his personality - but then Iwaizumi goes and says things like that completely out of the blue, and Oikawa is fucked.

Iwaizumi stops swatting at him and cuddles him closer. He kisses him on the cheek, on the nose, on the mouth, turning Oikawa into a pile of mush. He likes to think he has Iwaizumi wrapped around his finger, but Iwaizumi knows everything there is to know about Oikawa Tooru, how to surprise him, how to make him happy, how to kiss him just the right way to make his toes curl.

Iwaizumi has always been there for him. Iwaizumi had been storked as a baby to the Oikawa’s next door neighbors, and so, Oikawa’s very first memories are of Iwaizumi. He can’t remember a time when they weren’t best friends. Iwaizumi was there for Oikawa when he wanted to try volleyball, learning to play with him and becoming the spiker for his sets. He was there for Oikawa when Oikawa realized he was transgender, and supported him through his transition in middle school, standing up against bullies and being there before, during, and after his surgeries. He was there when Oikawa overworked himself - with school, with volleyball -  hovering over his shoulder with food and water, demanding he take breaks. He was always there, always by his side.

Their friends thought it was inevitable that they’d end up together, but neither of them had a clue about how the other felt until last year, when Oikawa got a girlfriend he didn’t want and Iwaizumi had stubbornly, tearfully confessed why he hated her. They’ve been together ever since, and Oikawa’s loved every single moment of it. Even the moments when Iwaizumi is an absolute brute.

Laying here with Iwaizumi now, Oikawa is absolutely content. They’re going to college in a year, the same college, and they’re dominating this volleyball season, and Oikawa gets to share this with his best friend, who is finally, finally his.

Oikawa should have known it couldn’t last.

Iwaizumi pulls away from him slowly, tracing his cheek, his neck, his chest, before shoving him off the bed.

Oikawa hits the ground with a thump. Iwaizumi is already giggling his ass off.

Oikawa sits up and dusts himself off. “Iwa-chan! How dare you take advantage of - ”

_Bang bang bang._

“I got it!” A sleazy voice from downstairs yells.

Oikawa sighs. He never really liked Iwaizumi’s parents. He didn’t think Iwaizumi liked them either. He’s surprised - but grateful - that these people had taken in a stork. The same people who gambled away all their money, who drank a sea of alcohol on any given night, who were drowning in debt, had taken in a baby who had been left on their doorstep, when they could have given him to a state home or put him up for adoption or even re-storked him, leaving him on someone else’s doorstep as someone else’s problem.

Iwaizumi can’t wait to be rid of them. Once he turns eighteen, he’s homefree. Oikawa can’t wait for that moment either. He hates how Iwaizumi’s parents treat him - hates how little he can do about it.

They hear the door swing open. “Hey!” Iwaizumi’s father yells. “Hajime! Get down here.”

Iwaizumi sighs and gets out of bed, stepping around Oikawa. “Coming!” he yells back.

Oikawa pouts at him.

“What?” Iwaizumi says, knowing exactly what Oikawa’s thinking. “The best way to get him to shut up is to just listen to him. You know that.”

“...that doesn’t mean I like it,” Oikawa mumbles. But he follows Iwaizumi out of the room and down the stairs anyways.

“We’re in the kitchen.”

 _Who is it? What do they want this time?_ Oikawa wonders, resisting the urge to wrap a protective arm around Iwaizumi.

In the kitchen, with Iwaizumi’s father, are two Juvey-cops.

“No…”

It can’t be. It _can’t_ _be_. There was no warning, no signs, no nothing - but the Juvies are here. And the Juvies only come for one reason.

They’re here to take away Hajime.

“Iwaizumi Hajime,” says the taller cop, reading off a paper. He looks young, almost Oikawa’s age, with broad shoulders and short brown hair. His eyes are as lifeless as a statue.

Oikawa knows him. “Ushiwaka,” Oikawa spits, not bothering to hide the antipathy in his voice.

Ushijima’s eyes widen for a moment in recognition, but he blinks and the moment’s gone. He turns back to Iwaizumi.

“Please come with us,” Ushijima says. “Your parents have signed an unwind order on the eighth of September, of the present year. You are required by law to comply with the Japanese Juvenile Control Force to attend harvest camp.”

His words fill up the otherwise silent room with heavy weight that sucks the air out of Oikawa’s lungs.

They look at each other. Iwaizumi’s eyes are painted with fear. He grabs onto Oikawa’s hand.

“Tooru - ”

“Hajime - ”

“Will you come quietly?” the other cop interrupts. He looks even younger than Ushijima, shorter, too, with a light fringe cut at an angle across his cold, brown eyes.

Oikawa sneers at him. “Like hell he will.” He squeezes Iwaizumi’s hand one last time, before throwing him towards the door.  

But Ushijima is already running past him, pushing him out of the way like he’s made of paper. He jumps at Iwaizumi and latches onto his ankles before he can reach the door handle. They fall to the ground with a loud _thud_.

Iwaizumi starts kicking and thrashing but Ushijima holds his ankles even tighter until he’s screaming in pain. The second cop rushes past Oikawa and straddles him, pushing him down onto his belly and yanking his arms behind him to handcuff him. And all Oikawa can do is watch.

They pull him up and open the door. Iwaizumi still struggles against the bonds, against Ushijima’s grip on his forearms, but Oikawa can see the Juvey-cop cars that line the streets and he knows the outcome of this battle.

Oikawa rushes at the cops anyway, but a pair of greasy hands hold him back.

“Get - off - of - me!” he shouts, surging out of Iwaizumi’s father’s grip and running outside to catch up to Iwaizumi -  

They’re already pushing him into the cop car.

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa shouts. There are tears in his eyes now, blurring his vision. “Hajime...!”

“Tooru!” Iwaizumi yells back, struggling against the men trying to shove him in the car, “I’m going to get out of here - and I’m gonna find you - wait for me!”

“I will!” Oikawa promises.

Iwaizumi gives him a nod, and stops fighting. He lets the cops push in into the car.

Ushijima comes up to Oikawa. Ushijima Wakatoshi. _What an awful name. Fitting for an awful person._

Ushijima looks at him and says, without batting an eye. “You should have become a Juvey-cop.”

Then he leans in and whispers something into Oikawa’s ear.

Oikawa snarls, and pushes him back. “Fuck you,” he says. But his voice is weak and there’s no venom behind it. He’s completely drained.

Ushijima walks away. Soon, there isn’t a single Juvey-cop car in sight. It’s as if they were never here.

Oikawa collapses on the sidewalk and cries. He howls, he shrieks, sobs into his hands, but no one comes out of their houses, despite how much noise he’s making.

They took him. They took his Hajime.

Oikawa doesn’t know how long he cries for. All he knows is that he’s cried out everything, all his feelings of pain and trauma and sadness. All that’s left is cold, hard hatred, and emptiness.

Oikawa whips around the storms back inside, to where Iwaizumi’s father stands in the doorway, as casually as if he were waiting for the mailman.

“Why’d you do it?” Oikawa spits, glaring at him.

The bastard shrugs. “I needed to pay off that debt somehow. Else the wife and me are gonna kick the bucket, you know? Well, someone else will kick it for us.”

“You gave up your son to pay off your debt?!”

“He wasn’t much of a son. Not really.”

“You two-faced, money-grubbing, maggot-eating, motherfucking ASSHOLE!” Oikawa shouts, tears streaming down his face. He lunges at him, punching him and knocking him out cold before he can blink.

Oikawa’s too enraged to care. He’s too terrified. His hands are shaking and his face is wet with snot and tears and all he can hear is Iwaizumi’s voice, over and over again -

_I’m going to get out of here - and I’m gonna find you - wait for me!_

_\- wait for me!_

_I’m gonna do you one better,_ Oikawa thinks. _I’m gonna find you myself._

 

 

**iv. Doctor**

_[date redacted]_

“...and lastly, the medulla,” says the Doctor, eyes fixed on the brain beneath his fingers. Or, what remains of the brain.

The Doctor carefully makes an incision dividing the medulla from the spinal cord. He wishes his assistants would take a step back - they’re always breathing down his neck.

“There we go...”

He saws through the last nerve, and the weight of the medulla hits the table, completing the final step of the three hour unwinding procedure.

The Doctor places the small piece of grey matter at the top of the table, next to the pons, below the thalamus. It’s the last piece of the unwind, the final part that normally would be stored away in a cooler.

Not this unwind. He is different. His body lays before them, spread out in pieces. A picture in a biology textbook, pulled into three dimensions.

The Doctor turns to his team; they look as exhausted as he is. Why are they so exhausted? He’s the one doing all the work. He hopes they can remain conscious for the second half of the procedure. They’d better be, if they want to get paid.

“Alright. Five minute break. Then let’s put him back together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos always appreciated! 
> 
> hmm on [tumblr](http://satyr-syd.tumblr.com) if you wanna talk anything haikyuu/unwind


	2. Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iwaizumi Hajime sits uncomfortably close to two Juvey-cops. Yamaguchi Tadashi is sure that nature has a personal grudge against him. Akashi Keiji think he could have made a great pickpocket in another life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i read UnBound this week and holy shit?? it was so good?? also super inspiring ;)

**v. Iwaizumi Hajime**

_(Sept. 20)_

He’s in the Juvey-cop car on his way to his unwinding, smushed between the two Juvies that brought him in, and all Iwaizumi can think is that he should have seen this coming. He should have _known_.

Of course his parents were going to unwind him. They never liked him - he was just a burden to them. They had always meant to sell him off, they were just waiting for the right moment.

He should have been prepared. He could have left sooner - to hell with waiting until he was eighteen. He could survive a year on his own until he was an adult, why hadn’t be just run away earlier? _Stupid, stupid, stupid…_

He wonders if Oikawa would have run away with him, if he had asked.

It’s too late for that, anyway. The Juvies have him; they’re driving to harvest camp right now.

Not that Iwaizumi is going in without a fight.

The cop car is silent, other than the roar of the tires and the chatter from the radio. It puts Iwaizumi on edge.

What would Oikawa do in his shoes? He’s a giant dumbass, but he’s a really smart giant dumbass. A really smart dumbass who he had to leave behind.

God, the way Oikawa had looked at him when he ran out of the house - face twisted in an agonizing expression of fear and anger and anguish - made Iwaizumi sick. _He_ had caused Oikawa to look like that. It was his stupid fault, letting them take him so easily. Not being prepared.

He never wanted Oikawa to look like that again.

That reminded him - back at his house, when they’d first seen the Juvey-cops, Oikawa acted liked he recognized one of them.

“Hey. How do you know Oikawa?” Iwaizumi asks the cop on his left. ‘Ushiwaka,’ Oikawa had called him. Iwaizumi reads his nametag. _Ushijima Wakatoshi._ Leave it Oikawa to come up with an annoying nickname like ‘Ushiwaka.’

“Training camp,” he answers. “Over the summer.”

Iwaizumi remembers. It’s ironic, really; that summer, Oikawa had gone to a training camp for aspiring Juvey-cops. With a plethora of AWOLs and a shortage of hands to grab them, the Japanese government decided to start training teenagers to be Juvey-cops. Pit teens against teens - what’s more effective than that?

Oikawa had come home a month before the camp was meant to end. Iwaizumi had asked why, but Oikawa refused to talk about it. He just said he never wanted to be a Juvey-cop. Iwaizumi saw nothing wrong with that.

“He was good,” Ushijima says. “Oikawa Tooru would have made a great Juvey-cop.”

Iwaizumi glares at him. “Tooru is great at anything he does. But I’m glad he’s not one of you.”

Ushijima is silent, but the cop on his other side breathes out his nose, in the semblance of a laugh. Iwaizumi turns around to glare at him until he shuts up. He glances at his nametag: _Shirabu Kenjirou._

“We’ll be making one stop before the harvest camp,” Ushijima says, looking out the window. “A bathroom break, at the edge of the mountain. It’s right past the town, so it wouldn’t be hard to double back.”

 _What the hell?_ Iwaizumi thinks. The way Ushijima phrased it...sounds like he meant something else.

“After that point, no unwind has ever escaped from us,” Shirabu adds.

Both their expressions are completely neutral, so Iwaizumi can’t get a read on them. But from what they’re saying...

“It’d be a shame if your handcuffs were loose,” Ushijima mutters, too quietly for the driver to hear. “Or if the bathroom had a secret exit.”

“Yeah,” whispers Shirabu. “You’d be able to get a head start for the safe house. The one by the library that us Juvies don’t think exists.”

Iwaizumi’s eyes widen. Were they...trying to help him escape?

“How long until we get there?” Iwaizumi asks softly. “I...need to use the bathroom.”

Shirabu cracks a smile. “About forty minutes. Think you can wait that long?”

Iwaizumi smiles back. “Yeah. I can wait.”

 

Exactly forty three minutes later, the Juvey-cops pull to the side of the road. There’s only two cars now - the car Iwaizumi’s in, and another in front of them. So, five, maybe six cops total.

“I’m going to unbuckle your seatbelt,” Ushijima says, and reaches over him. Iwaizumi leans forward, and he can feel Ushijima fiddling with his handcuffs. He coughs loudly when the lock clicks open to mask the sound. Then he unbuckles Iwaizumi’s seat belt and slides out of the car, beckoning Iwaizumi to follow.

“This is our only bathroom stop. Be quick about it,” Ushijima says, directing him to the sad looking port-a-potties sitting at the edge of a dense forest.

Iwaizumi hides his gratefulness behind a neutral nod, so as not to raise suspicion. “I will,” he says.

Iwaizumi doesn’t know why they’re helping him escape. He’s heard rumours of underground organizations that help unwinds, networks of safe houses for AWOLs and even a group that storms harvest camps, but he’s never heard of anyone helping from the inside. Iwaizumi isn’t sure if Ushijima and Shirabu are part of a bigger organization or if it’s just them, but either way, he’s grateful they’re willing to risk this much just to help him.

Ushijima directs him to the last port-a-potty, the one furthest from the group of Juvies gathered by one of the cars. Iwaizumi steps inside and closes the door, trying to convey as much as he can in a single look to Ushijima.

And then, he’s alone.

He takes off the handcuffs and throws them on the ground. Ushijima said there was a secret exit, some way he could make his escape. He looks around the little cubicle, feeling the walls for...aha! There’s a ridge on the side of the wall, a break in the plastic. Iwaizumi pushes, and the plastic gives away. He slowly sneaks out, being careful not the make any noise, and creeps through the undergrowth of the forest, far, far away from the Juvies.

Once he thinks he’s gotten far enough away, Iwaizumi runs. He runs down the hill, alongside the road, back towards to town they’d just passed.

As he runs, everything hits him at once. His parents had signed an unwinding order with his name on it. The Juvies had come and taken him away from everything he knew and loved. And now he was running away, going AWOL, a fugitive from the law, for stealing himself.

 _Oh god._ He’s breaking the law. Society is no longer on his side. But if society allowed this to happen to him...were they ever?

That doesn’t matter. What matters now is staying alive and whole. Even if his family life was shit, he had school going for him, he had volleyball, he had friends who cared for him, and he had a boyfriend who loved him.

 _What’s Oikawa thinking now?_ He knows Oikawa is pro-unwinding; he always has been. He once even turned in an AWOL, and had been ridiculously proud of his achievement. That’s why Oikawa had signed up for that Juvey-cop camp in the first place, to ‘clean up the useless dregs of society.’ Iwaizumi never thought about it much before, since unwinding was just a part of life. Not anymore - not to him. Does that mean Oikawa will leave him, let him be unwound? Now that the order was signed...would Oikawa still care about him? Or did he care more about the institution? Would he turn Iwaizumi in, just like he had with that poor kid?

 _No, he loves you, dumbass,_ he tells himself. _Oikawa doesn’t want you to be unwound._ He can’t believe he would doubt Oikawa like that. No - Iwaizumi means too much to Oikawa. And Oikawa means too much to him. And that’s why he has to survive. So that when he turns eighteen, he can come home and find Oikawa and they can be together and forget this ever happened.

Oikawa promised he would wait. And Iwaizumi _will_ return to Oikawa.

But that’s all in the future. First, he has a safe house to find.

 

 

**vi. Yamaguchi Tadashi**

_(Sept. 22)_

“I don’t - understand - ” Yamaguchi pants. “You - _hate_ \- camping.”

They’ve been hiking for miles - what parents let their nearly-fourteen-year-olds hike in the middle of nowhere on their own? He can’t believe Tsukki’s overprotective parents are letting them do this.

What’s even _more_ unbelievable is that Tsukishima Kei, germaphobe and neat-freak extraordinaire, wants to go camping for his birthday. Yamaguchi knows for a fact he’s never been camping in his entire life. He hates the outdoors, and nature in general. He’s a wizard with technology, with knowledge and skill Yamaguchi can’t even begin to understand, but Yamaguchi doubts he can survive even three days without a supermarket in walking distance.

“Tsukki,” Yamaguchi asks when his friend doesn’t respond to his previous comment, “Can you explain - again - _why_ \- we’re doing this?”

Tsukki sighs loudly, and stops walking.

“I want to...try something new,” he says, tightening his grip on the straps on the bag with the pop-up tent in it. “Camping...seems fun.”

Yamaguchi rolls his eyes. He knows he’s lying. Tsukki has never been able to fake interest in something. Usually, he doesn’t even try.

Which makes his response suspicious.

“But - ”

“It’s my birthday,” Tsukki snaps. “I get to decide what we do.”

“It’s just - ”

“If you keep talking, I’m going to make you carry the tent _and_ the computer.”

Yamaguchi gulps. “Sorry, Tsukki.”

They keep walking. The campsite they’re heading to is a few miles away, in the foothills of the mountains hugging the border of Miyagi Prefecture. Another thing Yamaguchi can’t figure out is why Tsukki wanted to hike. He said his parents were going to meet them at the campsite, but he wanted to hike up there himself. _Hike_. In _nature_. With _heavy equipment._ That Tsukki would never volunteer to carry himself.

Something is _seriously_ wrong.

They take a break once they reach to top of the next hill. The late September sun beats down on them mercilessly, burning their skin and making them sweat like pigs. Yamaguchi drips like a popsicle in the heat of summer, causing his clothes, his typical tithing greens, to stick to him like a second skin. Even the sunscreen smeared in heavy layers across Tsukki’s pale skin begins to melt. Yamaguchi empties his water bottle in moments; he hopes that Tsukishima’s will have more when they arrive at the site.

Tsukki leans against a thick tree, looking over the edge of the green foothills at the progress they’ve made. It’s a beautiful view, Yamaguchi notes, standing beside him. From here, he can see their hometown, small as a Lego playset. God, how long has it been? They’ve been walking since seven in the morning - a cursed, evil time - and it’s already past midday.

Yamaguchi says, “We’ve been walking for hours - how much further is it?”

Tsukki sighs again, softer than last time, but with more feeling. He slides down until he’s sitting with his back against the tree. Yamaguchi drops to the ground and joins him.

“Tsukki?”

His friend - the best friend he’s ever had, ever _will_ have - doesn’t look at him.

“We’re not going camping,” he says.

Yamaguchi cocks his head. When Tsukki doesn’t elaborate, he says, “What do you mean…?”

“We’re not going camping,” he repeats. “This isn’t my birthday present. My parents aren’t going to meet us at the campsite, because there is no campsite. They don’t actually know we’re here. Neither do your parents. I lied to you when I said my parents talked to yours about it.”

Yamaguchi lets the information flow over him, trying to make sense of it all. It’s a lot to process. And he still doesn’t understand.

His heart begins to beat faster. “But why - ”

Tsukki continues on like he doesn’t even hear him, his eyes glazed and distant. “We have everything we need with us - food provisions, clothing, blankets and pillows, a tent, matches, flashlights, my computer and solar charger, and whatever you wanted to bring. I stole enough money from my parents’ emergency fund to last us awhile. We should be good for at least a week, but eventually we’ll need to return to civilization. I think I can hack - ”

“Tsukki! Stop!” he shouts. Now his heart races. What’s he saying? Why does he want them to run away? He sounds like those apocalypse nuts, with all this survival talk, and it’s freaking Yamaguchi out. He stand up and begins to back away. “What - I don’t - what are you _saying_ \- ”

Tsukki jumps to his feet and snatches Yamaguchi’s hand. “Don’t you understand?” he hisses. “I’m helping you escape.”

And everything falls into place. The camping gear, the survivalist talk, the _lying_ , the distant, fearful look in Tsukki’s eye that Yamaguchi has never seen before; the pieces of the puzzle fit together seamlessly.

“Es...Escape?!” Yamaguchi spits, his voice full of disbelief and disgust. Anger wells in his stomach as he rips his wrist out of Tsukishima’s grip. “What the - Tsukki, this - this is a kidnapping! You can’t just decide to escape _for_ me!”

“I just did. Because I want to _save_ your _life_.”

Yamaguchi gapes at him. “ _I_ get to decide what to do with my life. Not you!” Yamaguchi yells. “I don’t want to escape, Tsukishima, I’m a _tithe_ , not an AWOL! I _want_ to be unwound! It’s my duty!”

“Your ‘duty’?” Tsukishima yells back. It’s the most Yamaguchi has ever heard him raise his voice. He laughs, the noise laced with sarcasm. “That’s a lame excuse and you know it.”

“We talked about this,” Yamaguchi hisses. “You said you understood! I thought I made it clear that I’ve accepted my fate, that I _want_ to be unwound! I was born for it!”

“Yeah? And did you pick that fate out for yourself?”

Yamaguchi cries out in frustration. Tsukishima is just too stubborn. “Okay, fine, I didn’t decide what my life was going to be used for! But I don’t care - in the end, it’s my choice - ”

“ - but it’s not, Yamaguchi! Your unwind order was signed without your consent - ”

 _“Tithe_ papers - ”

“Fine, your  _tithe_ papers were signed and you didn’t get a say in it at all!”

“I - but - I get a say now, and I still want to go through with it - ”

“No you don’t. You don’t know what you want, you never did. When did you get to decide anything? You’ve been fed bullshit your entire life. You’re worth more whole than as a bunch of cheap, interchangeable parts - ”

“I’ll be helping people! I’ll be saving lives!”

“By sacrificing your own?!”

_“Yes!”_

How can he not know Yamaguchi has heard this script before? He’s rehearsed this scene a thousand times and he’s so, so sick of playing this part. He knows who he is and he knows what he wants, and he doesn’t care if other people think it’s weird, because he knows he’s doing what’s right. Tithing is a _good_ thing - why can’t Tsukishima understand that?

Tsukishima makes that _tch_ sound that’s _so infuriating_ right now. “You’re not in the right mind,” he scoffs.

“AND YOU ARE?!” Yamaguchi shouts, louder than ever. A flock of crows fly out of a nearby tree. “What the hell are you doing, Tsukki? This isn’t like you! Dragging out all this camping equipment? Going behind your - _our_ \- parents’ backs? Running like AWOLS and hiding out in the forest? What did you think we were going to do - hide out in the mountains for four years?”

He frowns. “I have a plan. I’m going to find you a safe house, where you can survive until you come of age.”

Yamaguchi laughs humorlessly. “Oh, my bad, looks like you’ve got it all under control. Why did you even come with me? Why not kidnap me and drop me off at a safe house? But you - you just dropped everything...I don’t understand - you’re throwing your life away!”

“ _I_ get to decide what to do with my life. Not you,” Tsukishima says, throwing his words back at him. Yamaguchi winces.

He can’t believe this situation. He never would have guessed his best friend would be holding him against his will like _this_ , like some hero trying to save a damsel in distress. Tsukishima isn’t heroic. He isn’t brave, or chivalrous, or self-sacrificing. He’s blunt, and bitter, and cynical. He talks about people behind their back, and teases them to the limit of cruelness. But he’s a realist. He’s honest. He never tiptoed around Yamaguchi, he never treated him like royalty or looked at him like he was trash. He never faked his smiles or pretended to be kind, unlike every other person in Yamaguchi’s world. Tsukki was just a person, and he treated Yamaguchi like he was just a person, which was why Yamaguchi followed him everywhere.

But not here. This is the one time he can’t follow.

Tsukishima’s looking at him expectantly, waiting for Yamaguchi to deliver the next blow of their verbal joust, so he can parry it with some angry excuse again. He’s not going to tire of this duel any time soon. He’s stubborn, almost as stubborn as Yamaguchi. And he’s got longer legs. And more stamina. Yamaguchi can’t outrun him. Not that he would ever leave Tsukki out in the wilderness alone, infuriating attitude or not.

Yamaguchi lets out a breath, and drops to the ground. “You’re not going to change your mind, are you?” he asks.

“No.”

“You’re not going to let me go back, are you?

“...no.”

There’s only one way to handle this so that it will come out in Yamaguchi’s favor. He has to play along. Bide his time until he’s sure he can safely ditch Tsukki and find a Juvey-cop to take him home, to wait out his last few months before his tithing.

“Fine,” he says. “Maybe...you're right. You make a little sense, I guess…”

Tsukki squats in front of him, his eyebrows slightly raised, as if he doesn’t believe Yamaguchi in the slightest.

“I’ll go with you,” Yamaguchi tells him, staring at his feet. “Let’s find the safe house, and then I’ll…I’ll consider it. I can’t make you any promises, but...I’ll give you a chance.”

A hand reaches in front of him, and Yamaguchi takes it, letting Tsukishima help him to his feet. He has a satisfied smirk on his lips. “Good.”

They gather the camping gear - Yamaguchi swears it’s even heavier than before - and head down the back of the hill. They’ve only gone a few steps when Tsukki places his hand firmly on Yamaguchi’s shoulder. The warm, heavy force that stops him in his tracks.

“Tadashi,” he says, voice as heavy and warm as the hand on his shoulder, “if you’re unwound...I’ll never get to see you again. If you care about me as much as I think you do...you won’t do that to me.”

And it’s this, more than anything else he said, that breaks Yamaguchi’s heart.

 

**vii. Akaashi Keiji**

_(Sept. 20)_

Akaashi isn’t sure what to make of Bokuto.

He hadn’t paid him much attention when the Juvies threw him in the cell a few hours ago. He was too deep in his own thoughts at the time. But when Bokuto started talking to him, Akaashi couldn’t help but stare. He was tall and muscular. His crazy black-and-white hair stuck straight up and his big golden eyes pierced straight through him. He was talkative and friendly and incomprehensibly _hopeful_.

Akaashi had given up hope the moment he was caught. He let the Juvies bring him here without protest, and would go to his unwinding without trouble, but with his head held high.

That’s what he thought at the time of the incident. Now, hearing Bokuto’s optimistic outlook, he began to change his mind. Maybe escape wasn’t realistic, but at this point, what did he have to lose? Might as well try. He didn’t have the heart to refuse Bokuto’s pleading smile, anyways.

But what bothers him, what he still doesn’t understand, is why Bokuto wants Akaashi to escape with him.

It’s true that there are benefits to escaping together; if they pull it off right, two unwinds are harder to catch than one. Maybe that’s the angle Bokuto’s playing. Or else, Bokuto could be planning to use him as a distraction and make off while the Juvies are busy with Akaashi.

But that doesn’t sound right. If Akaashi’s reading him right - and Akaashi is _very_ good at reading people - that doesn’t sound like something Bokuto would do. He doesn’t seem like the type of person to think far ahead, nor weigh the advantages and disadvantages of having a partner in crime.

Maybe it’s because, if they do escape, Bokuto wants the benefit of having another person with him. Humans are social creatures; whatever disadvantage would come from traveling in a pack would surely be outweighed by the benefits. That is, if Bokuto even wanted to stay together after they escape. If they escape.

 _Unless he really_ does _know who I am and plans to turn me over to the media._

Akaashi knows he’s being paranoid. Bokuto might genuinely be a nice person who wants to help him out, but Akaashi can’t lower his guard yet. With the incident burned fresh in his mind, Akaashi knows better than the blindly trust anyone, no matter how kind they may seem.

Though it’s really hard not to trust Bokuto, with his endearing smile and reassuring words.

“So here’s what I was thinking,” Bokuto whispers, leaning in conspiratorially. “They gotta take us to the car right? Or however they transport us? So the moment they open the door to this cell - ” he gestures to it “ - we make a run for it. We hit the Juvies near us and knock them out, and just run until they don’t chase us anymore.”

Akaashi raises an eyebrow. “As cool as that would be, Bokuto-san, I don’t think that’s practical. We’re in the middle of a Juvey-cop station - it would be impossible to run when we’re surrounded already.”

Bokuto visibly deflates, sinking back into his chair with a pout. “...I guess you’re right.”

“We have to find the best time to run,” Akaashi says, the wheels in his head churning in thought. “Our journey, presumably, consists of walking out of the cell, and the station, to our transport vehicle. Then, from the transport to the harvest camp. There might be breaks on the trip, but we don’t know how near the harvest camp we’re going is, so we can’t count on that. Finally, we’ll walk from the vehicle to the harvest camp. And after that…”

_We’ll be unwound._

“I believe the best time to make a break for it is when we enter or leave the vehicle. If we wait until we arrive at the harvest camp, there will be more unknowns than there are now, and I’m sure the area around it is heavily secured. But, it will also be difficult to run as we enter the vehicle, since we’re surrounded by a Juvey-cop nest.”

Bokuto tugs his handcuffs back and forth. “So…sounds like there’s no good option.”

“No,” he admits. “There’s not.”

Akaashi is diving back into his thoughts when the back of his neck prickles.

Akaashi looks up and meets the eyes of the Juvey stationed outside of their cell - the one with the red hair, sticking up high enough to rival Bokuto’s. He's staring straight at him, lips curling in a knowing smirk, like he knows exactly what he and Bokuto are talking about.

Redhead raises his eyebrows and points two fingers at his eyes, then at Akaashi, in an _I'm-watching-you_ kind of motion, the smirk never leaving his lips.

Akaashi looks away and leans back in his chair. He wonders if Redhead recognizes him - but then, does it really matter? That smirk and gesture are much more of a cause for concern. "Bokuto-san," he says, glancing around the room apathetically. "We should be more discreet about this. Don’t look, but I think the Juvey out there suspects us - "

Bokuto immediately swivels his head in the direction of the cop. Akaashi bites back a sigh.

Redhead's smirk widens. He waves a hand at them teasingly.

“He’s taunting us,” Bokuto grumbles. He starts twisting his handcuffs more aggressively. Akaashi wants to reach out and still his hands, but he doesn’t know if that’ll help or make it worse, so he curls his folded hands into fists instead.

“Ignore him,” Akaashi says. “We need to focus on figuring out a plan - ”

“But just _look_ at him!”

Reluctantly, Akaashi looks up. Redhead sticks his tongue out at them and waggles it around lewdly.

Bokuto makes a noise of frustration, and before Akaashi can say otherwise, he leaps out of his chair and slams his fist on the glass beside Redhead's head.

" _Bokuto-san -_ "

The cop is already on his feet, swinging the door to their cell open and shoving Bokuto into the metal chairs. He trips over his feet and flies backwards. "Hey - "

Redhead kicks the door behind him shut. He points a spindly finger in Bokuto's face. "Now listen up, bub, they don't mic this room so no one can hear what I'm saying. So you better pretend I'm giving you a good talking to right now."

Bokuto's expression contorts in confusion but Akaashi understands immediately. He just hopes his emotion isn’t clouding his judgement with this one.

"Play along, Bokuto-san," Akaashi says, dropping his head in submission. "He's trying to help us, but he has to look like he's disciplining us."

Bokuto's eyes light up in a moment of clarity before he settles into a scowl. "Is that really true?" Bokuto asks.

Redhead - Akaashi can read his name tag now: _Tendou Satori_ \- leans down and pokes him in the chest. "Exactly. But them outside? Watching in the cameras above me? They can't know that. Okay?"

Bokuto fights a nod, and says, “Okay.”

Tendou straightens up and paces around as much as he can in the small room, looking like he's giving them a lecture. "If you want to get away, here's how it's gonna work. In an hour, a van's gonna come to take you guys away. My partner and I are going to walk you over there and unlock your cuffs. But you're not gonna run. Not until you're in the van. Take thirty seconds or so after the van starts to move, then you open up the back and jump outta there. Or else they might suspect me and my partner helped you out, and we can’t have that. Got it?"

With his nose scrunched in mock disgust, Bokuto says, "That's a lot better than anything we could come up with, huh Akaashi?"

Akaashi bites back a smile. "This does sound like a much better chance. But," he glances at Tendou, "how do we know we can trust you?"

Tendou waltzes over in front of Akaashi and bends down so their faces are level. "You don't," he says. "There's no way you can know. But whether you trust us or not doesn't matter - we’re your best chance of survival."

Akaashi frowns, because he’s right.

Tendou turns around and makes to leave. “Oh, and thanks for getting so pissed~” Tendou sings. “It gave me the perfect excuse to come in here and talk to you!”

Bokuto narrows his eyes. “You’re welcome,” he says moodily. Akaashi doesn’t think it’s for appearances’ sake.

Tendou looks back at them and smirks, then kicks open the door and takes his place beside the cell once again. He’s barely sat down when another cop, one with white hair and black tips, starts accosting him, pointing at the cell distressingly.

Akaashi turns his attention back to Bokuto. He’s on the edge of his seat, his knees bobbing in excitement.

“We’re really gonna do this,” he says.

Akaashi nods. “We really are.”

Bokuto looks up at him, the delight in his eyes impossibly bright. “I...I can’t really believe it.”

Akaashi sympathizes. This day had not turned out how he expected. He’d begun his day resigned to being unwound, and now, he was going to become a fugitive of the law, with the help of the same men who locked him up. “Frankly, neither can I, Bokuto-san.”

 

The van comes for them at exactly five o’clock. An hour since Tendou talked to them, just as he had said.

Akaashi’s not ready. His heart’s pounding wildly in his chest, and his hands are nearly shaking from nerves, but he stills his face into its normal, neutral expression, something he’s had practice with for years.

Tendou and his partner - _Semi Eita,_ his nametag reads - come for Bokuto and him and lead them out the back of the station into an alleyway, where a large, navy van waits for them. It looks more like a small bus than a van, but there are no windows besides the ones by the driver’s seat. The moment they exit the building, Akaashi hears a click, and his handcuffs loosen. The sound is such a relief to hear, he has to use all his willpower not to react; there are still cameras watching them, even now.

The van’s driver climbs out of his vehicle and greets Tendou, who’s still holding Bokuto’s handcuffs, with a slimy grin and a smack on the back. Akaashi immediately lowers his head.

“We’re good back here, bud, just wait in the front,” Tendou tells the driver, with that infuriating smirk. “I’ll give you the signal. You shouldn’t have to deal with these dirty Unwinds more than you have to.”

The driver barks in laughter. “You’re absolutely right, Tendou. No one understands me like you do!” he says. “Get those rats in my van, before I exterminate them myself!” He goes back to the driver’s seat, laughing the whole way there.

Akaashi lets out the breath he’s been holding. He hates people like that. People who think unwinds are the dirt of society, worse than the garbage beneath their feet, the dregs of the dregs. Just because their guardians threw them away didn’t mean they were trash; in Akaashi’s opinion, it’s the people who sign the unwind orders that are unfit for society.

Tendou unlocks Bokuto’s handcuffs and opens the door to the van. Akaashi is wholly unprepared for what he sees inside.

Why did he think they would be transported alone? The Juvies herd unwinds in packs. He’s not VIP anymore.

The back of the van is filled with kids, huddled together in rows on either side of the van, their hands chained to the metal benches they sit on. A dozen dirty faces turn their way, staring at them with empty eyes. Boys, girls, those who fit neither description. Akaashi knows they age from fourteen to seventeen, but they look so much younger. Livestock, on their way to be slaughtered.

“What…” Bokuto says, looking at the kids in disbelief. Tendou pushes him forward, but Bokuto doesn’t budge.

Tendou purses his lips. “Hey, look, we don’t have time - ”

“Wait!” Bokuto looks back and forth between the Juvies and the kids in the van. “But - aren’t you going to help them, too?”

Tendou shifts his eyes back and forth guiltily, giving himself away.

“Wha - why not? Why can’t you help them?” Bokuto pleads, his voice rising on distress. “All you have to do is unlock their - _hey!”_

Tendou shoves him against the van, and Bokuto stumbles backwards. Tendou pushes him up into the seat at the edge of one of the benches, and forces him to stay down. “There are still cameras here,” he hisses impatiently. “They’re watching us. And we’re running out of time.”

Bokuto rises to his feet, eyes flashing. “No! I won’t leave if you won’t help them!”

Semi lets go of Akaashi, pushing past him to leap into the van. He shoves Bokuto back down in his seat and spits, “We can’t save everyone! We just can’t. And if you don’t go quietly right now, we won’t be able to save you either.”

“We can’t just leave them!” Bokuto shouts desperately.

In that moment, Akaashi sees how this will play out. Bokuto won’t leave the van until he’s tried helping the others escape. It will be all or none - either everyone gets free, or he’ll stay with them all the way to harvest camp. Akaashi can see that Bokuto’s one of _those_ kinds of people, the kind that care too much for their own good. And it’s going to get them into trouble.

There’s no way they’re getting out of this situation at this rate. Akaashi has to do _something_.

“Hey - is everything okay back there?” a grisly voice shouts.

They all freeze. It’s the driver.

Semi slaps his hand over Bokuto’s mouth while Tendou shouts back, “Yep! Just have an unruly one right here, you know?”

“Well, get him under control! I don’t have all night.”

The Juvies take one look at each other, and get to work, Tendou dealing with Bokuto while Semi jumps down to corral Akaashi.

It’s only after Semi grabs him roughly by the arm that Akaashi realizes that was the perfect moment to run away. His hands were free, the Juvey's attention elsewhere, the busy streets of Tokyo waiting to swallow him up.

So why hadn’t be run?

 _Doesn’t matter anymore,_ Akaashi thinks. _It’s too late. Concentrate on what you need to do now._ And he knows exactly what he needed to do to shut Bokuto up so they can be on their way to freedom.

With Semi’s head turned the other way, and with Tendou preoccupied with calming Bokuto, Akaashi sees his chance. He slips his hand into Semi’s pocket and pulls out the keys, sliding them into his pocket before Semi tugs him up into the van.

They’re all strapped in, the other unwinds blessedly silent. Even Bokuto has given up at this point. Tendou and Semi step out of the van. Tendou closes the doors halfway, then leans in and and whispers, “We’re gonna leave this unlocked. Wait thirty seconds to jump. Okay?”

“Okay,” Akaashi lies.

They both look towards Bokuto. He’s hunched over, fidgeting with his cuffs again. “You’re really gonna let them be unwound?” he asks softly.

Tendou scoffs. “You’re really gonna stay around to see it?” Then he slams the doors shut.

Pitch black. Just the breathing of the other unwinds. They hear Tendou and the driver exchange goodbyes. The van begins to move.

“Are you gonna…were they…” says the boy next to Akaashi. Akaashi didn’t pay enough attention to remember his face, but his voice is high pitched, so he must be younger.

Akaashi nods, then realizes the kid can’t see him. “Yes. They unlocked our cuffs, so we can jump out at the right time.”

“Don’t pretend,” says a girl from elsewhere in the van. “We all heard them. You should be leaving right now.”

“Is that true?” the boy sitting next to him asks.

“If you were listening, then you know we’re not leaving,” Akaashi says. He blindly reaches next to him and finds the boy’s knee, and pats it reassuringly. “We’re going to save you.”

Bokuto, who has been suspiciously silent up until now, lets out an inhuman groan. “No, Akaashi, we _can’t_ ,” he sobs, voice muffled like his face is pressed against his knees. He sounds so different the man who asked him to escape together that Akaashi’s almost doesn’t believe it’s him. “S’not like we can get the cuffs loose. Ah, I can’t do anything! I deserve to be unwound…”

“No you don’t, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says. The way Bokuto stood up to Tendou nearly cemented Akaashi’s good opinion of him. Nearly. Because he’s not ready to trust anyone yet. “None of us do. And that’s why we’re getting out of here.”

He hears a sniffle and another sob. “But Agasheeee…!”

Akaashi slips the keys out of his pocket and jingles them.

The boy next to him gasps. “You stole...his keys…?”

“I did.”

The unwinds bursts into chatter.

“Wait, really?”

“Oh my god!”

“We’re getting out!”

“Unlock us, quick!”

“I’ll try,” Akaashi says loud enough the silence the crowd. “But it’s hard to see anything in here…”

“Oh! I can help with that!” Bokuto says. Akaashi hears feet shuffling and suddenly, a pair of glowing green eyes are staring at him.

Someone screams. “Relax, relax! It’s just me!” Bokuto says, and as Akaashi grows accustomed to the new light source, he sees that it really is Bokuto. He recognizes his smile, glowing from the light in his eyes.

“How…”

“Glow-in-the-dark pigment injections!” Bokuto says excitedly. Akaashi can hardly believe he’d been crying only a minute ago. “I saw it advertised in the mall and I knew I had to have them! My parents were really mad when they found out I got them, but it was worth it. They make me look like an owl and they’re really convenient - ”

Akaashi grabs his wrist. “Bokuto-san, I’m sorry, but we need to hurry.”

“Oh, right. Sorry.”

While they’re talking, the noise starts to rise again. Everyone’s buzzing with excitement and fear and they’re going to cause too much of a disturbance. Akaashi tries to call their attention, but no one listens to him.

“HEY HEY HEY!” Bokuto yells, voice penetrating through the noise like a sharp blade through butter. The group goes silent. “Akaashi has something to say.”

“Thank you, Bokuto-san,” he says. “I know everyone wants to get out of here - ”

“You got that right!” someone says, and everyone laughs.

“But we have to do this wisely. Firstly, we need to be quiet, or else the driver will get suspicious. I’m going to unlock everyone’s handcuffs, but don’t get up yet, not until everyone’s free. Then, at the first stop we make, we’ll open the doors and make a run for it.”

“What if we’re in the middle of the street? And there’s cars coming at us?” someone says.

“We’re in the middle of Tokyo. Of course it’ll be crazy,” another answers.

“That will be our advantage,” Akaashi says. “We need to get away as soon as possible. And a busy intersection is a good cover.” All the chaos caused by a herd of unwinds running through the streets would hopefully cause enough confusion to allow them to escape.

Bokuto hovers his face near Akaashi’s hands, because the light from his eyes is still fairly dim. The proximity is a little uncomfortable, but Akaashi pushes down the feeling.

They go up and down the aisle unlocking everyone’s handcuffs, starting with the boy sitting next to Akaashi. With the light from Bokuto’s eyes, he can almost make out his face. “Thanks,” he says gratefully. Akaashi pats his knee again.

“Well I’ll be damned,” says the girl from earlier when they unlock hers. “You really are pulling through.”

Once everyone’s free, they wait in silence. Bokuto’s eyes, a light in the darkness, focus on the doors. Finally, the van slows to a stop.

_“Go!”_

Bokuto flings the doors open. A mass of bodies rushes past Akaashi, spilling out of the van and into the street. Akaashi hears yells as he pushes everyone past him, until the only ones left in the van and him and Bokuto. Akaashi grabs him and tumbles out of the van and into the street.

Before he can adjust to the light from the infinite jumbotrons lining the street, Bokuto’s dragging him through the traffic. Cars beep at them and they nearly get hit a dozen times, but make it to the other side of the road in one piece.

“Wait!” a voice yells after them.

Akaashi turns around before he can think better of it and sees a boy in the middle of the road, barely dodging the traffic they so narrowly survived. Before Akaashi can move, Bokuto lets go of his hand and darts into the street. He watches as Bokuto grabs the kid and barrels back to Akaashi, his golden eyes flaming. He snatches Akaashi’s hand with the one that’s not holding the boy’s and drags them deep into nearest alleyway.  

Akaashi wants to turn around and see what’s happening to the van, what’s happening to the other unwinds, but he knows they can’t, they need to keep running, until they’re far, far away from this mess. So he lets Bokuto pull them through alleyways and down streets and until his legs feel like they’re about to fall off and his heart’s about to explode.

“Bo - bo - kuto,” he pants, yanking on Bokuto’s hand. “I think - we can - stop now.”

He slows them to a stop, in a narrow alleyway between a busy restaurant and supermarket. The boy collapses on the ground, in a shaking heap.

Bokuto kneels down next to him and asks, “Are you okay?”

The boy takes a moment to catch his breath, then says, “Are you kidding? I’m great! You saved me!”

Akaashi recognizes his voice - it’s the boy he was sitting next to. He looks even younger than Akaashi expected him to, with shaggy black hair parted in the middle and bright black eyes.

He sits up and hugs Bokuto. “Thank you for saving me,” he says. “And you, too,” he adds, looking at Akaashi.

Akaashi stares at him blankly. Logically, he knows that he helped this boy, but he still can’t fathom that he saved his life. Akaashi doesn’t help people, he can’t help people. But the boy is staring at him with wonder in his eyes and Akaashi can’t help but feels a little lighter in spite of the fiasco that just happened.

“I’m Shibayama Yuuki, by the way,” the boy says, extending his hand out for Bokuto to shake.

Bokuto smiles and shakes it passionately. “Bokuto Koutarou, at your service.”

They turn to Akaashi, expectantly.

“Akaashi,” he says, offering his hand along with only his last name, as he did for Bokuto. He probably shouldn’t give out his real name at all, but then, who knew him by his last name anyways?

Shibayama shakes his hand gratefully and stares at his face a bit too long. “You look familiar.”

The words trigger something in him, and Akaashi fights the urge to flee - _this boy means no harm, he’s just as lost and scared as we are_ \- and shrugs. “I have one of those faces,” he says.

He ignores Bokuto’s curious stare and stands up, directing their conversation to the most pressing matter. “We need to figure out what we’re going tonight.” The sky is already getting dark. No doubt the Juvies will be on the prowl tonight, hunting the livestock that slipped out of their grasp.

“Oh!” Shibayama perks up. “If you’re looking for a safe house, I know where one is!”

“Really?” Bokuto says.

“I think it’s near here, actually.” Shibayama peers out into the street, getting his bearings. “Yeah, it’s only five blocks down from here. An antique shop called Nekoma.”

Bokuto leaps to his feet. “That’s awesome!” he shouts. Akaashi slaps his hand over his mouth and shushes him.

“We’re trying to be discreet, remember?” he says pointedly.

Bokuto peers at him out of the corner of his eye, and gives a tiny nod. Akaashi lets go.

Akaashi isn’t sure if they can trust Shibayama. That he would know where a safe house is, that it would be so near, seems suspicious. But then, he was just on his way to be unwound, so he couldn’t be working for the other side. Logically, Shibayama should be telling the truth. Akaashi doesn’t know where else to go tonight, so at this moment, the safe house seems like their best option. “Let’s head over. While we still have a head start on the Juvies,” he says.

To his surprise, Shibayama shakes his head. “Actually, I’m headed in the other direction. You guys go ahead without me.”

Bokuto gasps. “We’re not just gonna leave you here!” he protests, placing his hands on Shibayama’s shoulders.

The boy smiles. “It’s okay, I know what I’m doing! ...I think.”

“And just what do you plan on doing?” Akaashi asks. He just saved this boy, he’s not going to let him get back into trouble _that_ easily.

“I’m going to the Court,” he says, eyes glowing in wonder.

Bokuto lets his arms fall and takes a step back. “The Court?”

Shibayama looks at both of them in awe. “You mean you haven’t heard of the Court? I thought all AWOLs knew about the Court.”

Bokuto shrugs. “We haven’t exactly been AWOL for very long.”

Shibayama nods in understanding. “So you know how there are safehouses, right? Well the Court’s suppose to the biggest of them all. It’s where all AWOLs want to go because it’s built like a fortress.”

“Wow…” Bokuto says under his breath. “I didn’t realize the Anti-Unwind campaign was so...so…”

“Extensive?” Akaashi offers.

“Yeah. Extensive.”

Shibayama goes on. “That means it’s harder to keep secret, though. That’s why there’s so much secrecy about everything. See, the problem with the Court is, no one knows where it is.”

Akaashi narrows his eyes. “But you’re looking for it, so that means...you know something you shouldn’t?”

Shibayama gives a meek smile. “I heard that it’s somewhere around the Miyagi-Fukushima border. I’m going to try and get there. I’d ask you to come along, too, but…” he gives them each a once over, “...if you’re not used to living on the streets...you’re probably better off in a safe house.”

“Aw,” Bokuto whines. “But I wanted to go to the fortress.”

“Another day, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi reassures him. “The safe house is our best option right now.”

He turns back to Shibayama. “We’ll meet you there one day, okay?”

Shibayama beams at him. “You got it!” Then he takes off in the other direction, yelling, “Thanks again!” as he trots away.

Now it’s just Bokuto and him in the alleyway. He’s completely exhausted, from both the physical and mental exertion of today. This morning, he never would have pictured himself here, hiding in the back streets with a crazy-haired stranger, a fugitive with not a single possession to his name, still in one piece. It’s a wayward victory, but a victory, nonetheless.

Someone’s stomach growls. “Uh, sorry?” Bokuto says, looking at his belly.

Akaashi giggles. He shouldn’t, because it’s just a reminder that they have no source of food, and they haven’t eaten all day. But he’s tired and he’s giddy and somehow the sound of Bokuto’s growling stomach is so _normal_ that it’s a relief.

“Come on, then,” he says, walking into the busy street, Bokuto following behind. “Let’s hope the safe house provides us dinner.”

“If they don’t,” Bokuto says with a smirk, “my stomach’s gonna keep growling and give us away for sure.”

This time, Akaashi doesn’t bite back a smile. Even though they’re on the run from Juvies, and are headed to a safe house to hole up in, Akaashi is elated. He belongs to himself.

For the first time in nearly two years, Akaashi finally feels free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next up, meet kuroo and kenma! also the return of distressed oikawa and a deeper look into the culture of unwinding


	3. Limbo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bokuto Koutarou is definitely _not_ shorter than his new friend. Oikawa Tooru regrets several things, including wasting his mochaccino. Tsukishima Kei is just really sick of glasses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You’ll notice (or maybe not) that i’ve included dates, because the chronology in this fic is as confusing as hell for me and also probably you. the timing is unintentionally wacked, so beware

**viii. Bokuto Koutarou**

_(Sept. 20)_

 

The people at Nekoma take them in and feed them dinner, which makes Bokuto’s stomach very happy. Then they led them to a secret back room, where they’ll stay until being relocated to a new safehouse. By this time, it’s nightfall, and when they close the door, the only light comes from a miniature lamp sitting between the two other inhabitants.

The first thing Bokuto notices is the other AWOLs - there’s two of them, sitting on either side of a dingy lamp. One has wild black hair that falls in his sleepy eyes and a Cheshire cat grin. He’s leaning back on his hands, long legs stretched out before him and crossed at the ankle. The other’s hair is almost shoulder length and dyed blonde, though his dark roots are growing out. It hangs around him like a curtain, so Bokuto can’t make out his face. He’s sitting on a large red beanbag, curling his legs to his chest, distracted by some gaming device. His wide eyes were fixed on the light in his lap; he hadn’t even looked up at them when they came in.

“Uh...hey,” Bokuto says, because no one else is saying anything.

The black haired one smirks. “Hey hey,” he responds.

Bokuto smiles. “Hey hey hey.”

“Hey hey hey hey.”

“Hey hey hey hey he - ”

“ _Stop._ ”

Bokuto gulps, and looks at Akaashi sheepishly. He’s glaring at Bokuto impatiently, like his mom sometimes does when they’re meeting knew people and he’s talking too much, so Bokuto takes that as his cue to shut up.

The black haired guy clears his throat, and leans forward. “Hey. I’m Kuroo. That’s Kenma.” He points to the other boy. “And you are...?”

Bokuto reaches out and shakes his hand. “Bokuto Koutarou. And this is Akaashi.”

Akaashi clears his throat. “Bokuto-san, I’m perfectly capable of introducing myself,” Akaashi says.

“Oh. Sorry.”

Silence again.

“Well, don’t be strangers - take a seat,” Kuroo says.

Bokuto looks around the tiny room. There are no windows, and it’s barely large enough for all four of them to lie down comfortably. Besides the lamp, there’s only the beanbag that Kenma is curled up on and a few cots and blankets in the corner. “Um...there aren’t any seats...” Bokuto says.

Kuroo laughs. “You know what? You’re right. ‘Take the floor’ would be a better way to phrase it. Or maybe not, unless you want to put on a show for us.”

Bokuto laughs, not noticing Akaashi flinch beside him. “It’d be a really bad show! I’m a really bad dancer - and jeez, I can barely stand up in here.” It’s true; his hair, still somehow gelled up despite all the chaos today, nearly scratches the ceiling.

Kuroo guffaws. “Ha! Think how I feel.” Kuroo stands up, nearly chest to chest with Bokuto. And he’s _tall_ \- about as tall as Bokuto himself. He smiles at him with that annoying smirk, like he’s looking _down_ on Bokuto.

Bokuto narrows his eyes, and balances on the balls of his feet.

“What’s that suppose to mean?” Bokuto says.

“It means I’m taller than you,” Kuroo purrs.

“N-no - are not!” Bokuto stammers, raising his chin as high as he can. “Akaashi, who’s taller?”

“Kuroo-san.”

“Bokuto.”

\- two voices say simultaneously, and equally flatly.

They turn and look at the other boys in the room. Kenma puts his game down, and looks at them blankly. Bokuto wonders what he’s playing. It must be good if he was so investing in up until now.

“What?” Kuroo says.

“Bokuto is taller,” Kenma says.

Akaashi furrows his eyebrows. It’s kind of cute. “No, I believe Kuroo-san is taller,” he says. “Bokuto-san’s hair doesn’t count.”

Bokuto frowns, and touches his hair. _Nevermind. Not that cute._

Kuroo turns back to him and pulls him closer, a pout on his lips. It’s the only other expression besides smirking Bokuto’s seen him make yet. He places his hand on his head, horizontally, sticking out just so that it meets Bokuto’s hair. “Ha! I am taller!” Kuroo proclaims.

Bokuto sighs, and slumps to the ground. “Aw man.”

“Oh,” Kenma says. “Guess I made a mistake.”

Kuroo drops down next to Kenma and pokes the other’s arm. “Kenmaaaaa, I know you were just doing that to tease me!”

Kenma shrugs. “A few centimeters difference makes it hard to judge.”

“Does not.”

“Does too.”

“Does _not_ , and you know it.” Kuroo’s smirking again, even as he whines.

“It’s the hair,” Akaashi buts in. “Both of your hairstyles were misleading.”

“Is that so?” Kuroo asks. He runs his fingers through his hair. “I can’t help it. It’s naturally beautiful like this.”

“You mean naturally a rat’s nest,” Kenma says under his breath. But the room is so small that they can all hear it, and Bokuto laughs.

“Hey, should you really be laughing?” Kuroo says to him, nudging him with his foot. “You hair looks like an owl.”

Bokuto beams. “You really think so?! That’s awesome! I love owls!”

Kenma snorts. And then it turns to a cough, and Bokuto wonders if he even laughed at all.

“Really?” Kuroo says, eyebrow raised. “I don’t like birds much.”

“But they’re so cool!” Bokuto counters. He waves his hands to illustrate flapping. “They can fly! I’ve always wanted to fly, that sounds so cool! Did you know it’s because their bones are hollow? That way they’re light enough to fly. You don’t think that’s cool?”

Kuroo taps his chin. “Well…”

“I think they’re cool,” Akaashi interrupts. They all turn to look at him, and he blushes. _Cute_. “I, um...admire birds’ ability to fly. It gives them so much...freedom. I always wanted to fly like a bird - like an owl in the night. I’d prefer to be the cold killer rather than the helpless prey.”

The way Akaashi said it...it didn’t sound like he was talking about owls. Bokuto doesn’t know why, but he suddenly wants to give him a hug.

Kuroo sighs dramatically. “Fine, it’s cool,” he says. “But I still don’t like birds. They’re loud and annoying...and they have gross feet.”

“Kuroo’s a cat person,” Kenma says. “He’s going to be a crazy cat lady when he grows up…”

It takes a moment for the words to register, but when they do, the room sobers up. It’s so easy to talk about the future like they’re normal kids, because that what they thought they were up until now - but they aren’t. They’re unwinds. There’s no future set in stone for them - no promise of a future at all.

Bokuto hates the awkward silence. He’s itching to say something, but he doesn’t know what, but he really wants to break the silence so he’s happy when Kuroo does it for him.

“You know Akaashi, you look familiar.”

There it was again! Someone else who said that. He remembered what Akaashi said earlier today, when they first met - _was that only this morning?!_ \- when he sounded surprised that Bokuto didn’t recognize him. Before, he thought they had met somewhere before and Akaashi was just too polite to admit it, but now, with other people recognizing him, he wonders if Akaashi is famous or something.

Just as he had done for Shibayama, Akaashi shrugged and told Kuroo he had ‘one of those faces.’

This time, Bokuto doesn’t believe him. He doesn’t think Kuroo believes him either; he’s smirking again, like he knows a secret.  

They’re about to lapse back into silence when Bokuto bursts, “What’s with your smile?”

“My...smile?”

“You’re like, always smirking.” Bokuto tries to smirk like Kuroo, and waves his hand at his mouth.

“Bokuto-san, that wasn’t very kind to ask,” Akaashi tells him.

“Oh! Sorry - ”

But Kuroo laughs and shrugs like it’s nothing. “It’s a defense mechanism. Kenma thinks it’s sexy.”

Kenma’s face turns red, and he sinks deeper into the beanbag. “Do not.”

“Do too.”

“Do not.”

Kuroo leans his face into Kenmas and smirks wider than before. “Do too.”

“Do _not_ ,” Kenma insists, shoving Kuroo’s face away from him. Kuroo only laughs, and Bokuto joins in, and even Akaashi cracks a smile.

They talk for a little while longer, until a Nekoma employee comes and tells them to turn the light out. They set up the cots, and use the bathroom next to the back room to clean up. When Kuroo and Kenma are brushing their teeth, and Bokuto’s playing with the loose threads of his blanket, Akaashi taps his shoulder.

“Bokuto-san,” he says, not meeting his eyes. “What you did for Shibayama-san was really brave.”

“Was it?” Bokuto asks. He wasn’t trying to be brave at the time. He’d just heard the cry for help and acted. “Cool.”

“And you stood up for the kids in the van, too,” Akaashi continues.

Bokuto shrugs. “It was unfair to leave them, when we knew how to escape.” One of the blanket threads becomes loose, and he pulls it out until it’s as long as his forearm. “Hey! What you did with the keys - that was brave too! We wouldn’t have been able to get out without you.”

Akaashi smiles. Bokuto decides he really likes Akaashi’s smile. “It was nothing…”

“No way! That was so cool!” he says. “Man, I thought we were done for, when they closed the door and it was dark and everyone was still...and then bam! You whip out the keys and save everyone!”

“I guess I did. But," he might be imagining it, but Akaashi seems a little red, "I couldn’t have done that much without you.” 

“What do you mean?”

He reaches for the thread in Bokuto’s hand, wraps the base around his finger, and breaks it off. “You’re the one who wanted to save them. I just made it possible. I would have been fine with leaving them there...but after hearing what you had to say, I changed my mind. You changed it before, too, earlier today, when we were in the cell. I thought I had come to terms with being unwound, but you were right - there is hope. Thank you.”

Now Bokuto feels his face getting red.

Before he can say anything, Kuroo and Kenma come back in, and they turn the lights out and all lay down in their cots while the noise of the city drowns on outside.

It’s then that Bokuto realizes how tired he is. This has definitely been the longest day of his life, even longer and more tiring than the day he broke that kid’s nose, or got in that car crash. All of that felt like another lifetime ago. This morning - no, the moment his parents signed the unwind order - that was when his old life ended, and this new one began.

But Bokuto doesn’t want his old life to end. Not that he doesn’t like Akaashi, or that he isn’t thankful for all the people who’ve helped him today, it’s just...he liked his old life. He liked being the ace of the volleyball team, he liked going to school. Okay, maybe not school; the teachers always ridiculed him and his tutors got mad when he couldn’t focus, and he knew everyone on the volleyball team was his friend but it was hard to keep believing them when they talked behind his back. But he’ll miss home. He’ll miss the Tokyo he knows - his favorite yakiniku place he always went to after matches, the crowded streets and loud people and the blinding jumbotrons - well, not that, but he’ll miss going to concerts for bands he never heard of and watching his favorite anime and going to see movies with his friends, even if that was only once, but it had been fun, that time. He’ll miss his parents, at least, even if they were always yelling at him to try harder and to stop pretending he had a make-believe disorder, and okay, maybe he life wasn’t as great as he thought it was, but it was the only life he knew, and Bokuto was scared to leave it.

He wonders if they’ll forget him. His friends, his teachers, his parents. Some unwinds are immortalized in memoratoriums, but many of them just...disappeared. Once those ones were gone, talking about them was a taboo, and that was the moment that they were truly dead.

Bokuto hopes he isn’t forgotten. Can parents truly forget their child, someone they spent fourteen or more years nurturing, someone they loved?

But Bokuto can’t help but wonder if he parents ever loved him in the first place.

He rolls onto his back and looks up at the ceiling. He shouldn’t think about these things at night, the thoughts just go round and round in his head and he can never sleep, but -

“ _What the fuck,_ ” Kuroo whispers. “Kenma please tell me I’m not the only one seeing a glowing pair of eyes.”

Bokuto sits up and muffles a laugh with his hands. He finds Kuroo in the dark and grins widely. “Scared, cat-boy?”

Kuroo looks at him with wide eyes until the recognition settles in. He flops back on his cot and covers his face with his hands. “Oh my god Bokuto, you nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“Are those...pigment injections?” Kenma asks.

“Yup. _Glow-in-the-dark_ pigment injections.”

“I can’t believe it. You’re actually an owl,” Kuroo says.

They laugh until someone from Nekoma comes in and tells them to shut up, they’ll attract too much attention. They stifle their giggles and lie back down and try again to go to sleep. Bokuto finds he’s much more relaxed than before.

Bokuto knows it’s going to take time to get use to this new life. But he thinks he’s off to a good start.

 

 

**ix. Oikawa Tooru**

_(Sept. 21)_

 

The morning after Iwaizumi is taken, Oikawa Tooru leaves home. He’s got his school bag packed - not with school supplies but with necessities - and leaves home under the pretense of going to school.

“Tooru!” his mother says when she catches him leaving. “Are you sure you want to go to school today? After what happened yesterday...no one would blame you if you need a day off…”

Oikawa smiles and hugs her. He really does love his parents, and he’s sad to be leaving them, even if he has every intention of coming back. “I’m fine,” he says, in a carefully practiced, even tone. “Of course I’m sad, but...if Iwa-chan’s parents signed the order, there’s nothing we can do about it.”

He lets go of her and makes for the door. “He’s just an unwind, now,” he says. “It’s the way the world works. He probably wouldn’t have amounted to anything anyway.” He’s said those words so many times before, but this is the first time he doesn’t believe them.

Oikawa doesn’t deign to look back at his mother, because he knows that she’ll see right through him.

So he opens the door and leaves.

After the Juvies took Iwaizumi, he holed up in his room the rest of the day. At first he cried, but once his tears were dried, the anger set in. Anger at the Iwaizumis, for turning their perfectly good son into a pile of parts, and at the system that allowed it to happen.

Oikawa doesn’t understand. It’s not that he thinks unwinding is bad - he’s very much pro-unwinding - and it’s not good, either, but it’s a necessity. Sacrifice the few for the many - the few that really were worth more as parts than a whole. Unwinding is for the greater good, and it helps so many people. He’s heard stories about people in car accidents who lost limbs, but thanks to unwinds, they could walk again. He’s heard about blind people seeing for the first time, deaf people hearing. Blood banks are never empty, and organ banks are overflowing. His cousin would have _died_ from cancer if his parts hadn’t been replaced with an unwind’s. Oikawa couldn’t have gone through with his surgeries if not for unwinds. Parts saved lives and improved on those that could be better. That’s more good than unwinds ever could have done as a whole.

But that’s not where Iwaizumi should be. It’s not because Oikawa’s being selfish - okay, maybe that was part of it, but that’s not the only reason. Unwinding is suppose to be for the bad kids, the kids that don’t follow the rules and don’t do well in school and would only a burden to society. Iwaizumi was none of that: he was kind, and smart, and strong - both physically and mentally - and even if he was a little rough sometimes he was never mean. Iwaizumi could have been a poster child for the next generation, yet somehow, he’d fallen prey to the system that should have worshipped him. How could they let this happen? How could they let someone like him stand on the same stage as _those_ kids? Iwaizumi isn’t like them. That’s what he tells himself - Iwaizumi is different. That’s why he needs to be saved.

If Iwaizumi is unwound, that means the system is broken. And Oikawa refuses to let that system break.

That night, his anger fizzled out. He can’t save Iwaizumi if he’s blinded by anger. Instead, he stayed up the whole night planning and packing. He considers filing a lawsuit against the Iwaizumis for poor treatment of their son. But Oikawa doesn’t have enough money for a lawyer, and he knows that judges are unusually strict about unwind orders. He’s never heard of one even being taken to court, let alone reversed. He’ll have to rescue Iwaizumi himself. And if he had any chance to save Iwaizumi, he had to leave as soon as possible: he had no idea how long it would be until they actually unwind Iwaizumi. And the countdown has already begun.

When he leaves his house, he walks in the opposite direction of school. It’s early enough that most people are still in bed - Oikawa usually gets up early, but today, he’d gotten up even early than usual. (At least, he left early. He hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep all night.)

First he needs to find out which harvest camp Iwaizumi is being sent to, and the route he’s taking to get there. If he’s lucky, he’ll intercept him before he reaches the harvest camp. If not...he’d have to settle for a different plan.

Luckily, Oikawa has many, many plans for a hundred potential outcomes.

First, Oikawa needs access to the Unwind Database, where the government keeps all its information on unwinds - who’s cited for an unwind order, where they’re located, which harvest camp they’re being sent to, and for those who are already divided, where their parts are. He’s no hacker, so he needs to break in on-site. He needs to break into a Juvey-station.

_Iwa-chan, I’m coming._

 

The nearest Juvey-station is in Sendai. It takes him half an hour to get there.

It’s still early in the morning, but the station door is open, so Oikawa walks in.

The layout is simple enough. It’s a small station, and everything is cramped; there’s an empty cell made of glass at the back wall, and several large desks are pushed in the middle, each fit with a table-top computer screen obscured by stacks of white paper - unwind orders. A big, black mesh closet stocked with what can only be tranquilizer guns sits opposite of an open window office, where a half dozen Juvies sit in a meeting. Tucked in a back corner, next to the cell, is a door labeled “EMPLOYEES ONLY.” There’s a camera facing the front, and two lining the sides of the building.

In front of all that is the front desk, manned by a pretty woman with a short, dark bob. She’s typing at her computer; she hadn’t even looked up when he came in. Oikawa glances back at the Juvies in their meeting before freely approaching the desk. Perfect timing.

“Hi,” Oikawa says with a smile, laying his forearms on the desk and leaning right into her personal space.

She glances up at him, her expression hard as ice. “Unless you’re an AWOL turning himself in, or you have current information about AWOLs we have yet to apprehend, I can’t help you.” She goes back to typing.

Oikawa smiles. “I’m afraid I’m not an AWOL, but...I do think you could help me.”

She looks up at him again and quirks an eyebrow.

He leans in closer, looks her in the eye, and gently whispers, “My friend was recently sent to be unwound. I didn’t get to say goodbye...he - he meant a lot to me. Could you help me find which harvest camp he’s at? I just...I need closure.”

Oikawa has found this method more successful than most people think. Being (mostly) honest and straightforward often baffles people more than dishonesty does, and Oikawa is good at taking advantage of people’s surprise. Most people are easily manipulated under unexpected circumstances.

Judging from this woman’s unyielding glare, she’s not one of them.

“…please,” he begs, putting as much raw emotion in his voice as he can muster.

“That information cannot be disclosed to the public,” she says, and goes back to typing.

Oikawa sighs. He had planned for this contingency, of course, even though he would have preferred Plan A work out. He leans in even closer and flashes her the wad of cash in his sleeve, so the cameras won’t see. “Not even for the right price?” he says, almost at a whisper.

Her nose scrunches in disgust. “Leave before I kick you out myself,” she hisses.

He gives her a weak smile and steps back, holding his hands up in surrender. “That’s okay - I understand. Thanks for your help anyway.” He backs out the door and walks out the station as calmly as he’d come in.

Plans A and B were a bust. Time for Plan C.

He walks into a café at the end of the block, orders a mochaccino with light whip and chocolate shavings, and find a seat outside. From here, he has a perfect view of the Juvey-station, and can easily identify anyone who walks in or out.

He sits outside the café, pulling out his laptop while he waits, researching Juvey-stations and the history of unwinding. Nothing he hasn’t read before.

Finally, hours later, Oikawa sees a familiar black bob walking out of the station. He shuts his laptop and throws away his half-drunken mochaccino. _Plan C, here we go._

In a bathroom of the café, Oikawa changes into his old uniform from the summer camp he went to. It brings back bad memories, of training, of Ushiwaka, of the AWOL. But he discards those feelings along with his shirt and pants, and pulls on the blue uniform with the red stripes down the sides.

Technically, Oikawa wasn’t suppose to keep it. But he thought it might come in useful someday, and he was right; though, it was much sooner than he expected.

He fastens a name tag to his pocket - _Oikawa Tooru, Junior Juvey_ \- and takes a look at himself in the mirror. He runs his hands through his hair until there’s not a single hair out of place, and splashes his face with water. He runs his index finger below his eyes; they’re a bit red and puffy, and his dark circles are more prominent than he would like. As in, they exist.

 _Nothing a little concealer can’t fix._ He pulls out the little tube of makeup and fixes his eyes. Can’t have anyone questioning his appearance. Plus, he finds he’s a lot more _persuasive_ when he looks his best.

He leaves his stuff in the bathroom, hoping someone will find it and give it to the cafe’s lost and found, and walks down the street, the opposite direction of the station, rounds the corner and the end of the block, and heads for the back door. To his surprise, it’s open.

Oikawa takes a big breath and steels himself. _Let’s get started_.

He pushes the door open and walks inside. There are a few Juvies at the desk clump, laughing about something on one of their desk screens, a new secretary at the front, and a cop snoozing in the meeting room. The Juvies at the desk barely look up when he enters, and continue joking about whatever is on the screen. Oikawa takes this chance to slip into the room he’d seen before, labeled “EMPLOYEES ONLY.”

He shuts the door behind him quickly and the lights turn on. It’s a small room, containing exactly what he was looking for - a large computer screen on the wall, the words ‘UNWIND DATABASE’ written in stark black kanji over it.

Oikawa breaths in deeply. It hits him, then that he’s really doing this. He’s really breaking into a Juvey-cop station and about to hack into the _the_ _fucking Unwind Database_. This is everything he stands against - behaving unlawfully, selfishly, to get what he wants - yet here he is.

 _It’s for Iwaizumi_ , he reasons. _It’s to fix the system._

_I’m on the right side._

He taps on the screen. It turns white, and in the middle of it is a single circle, the size of a small melon. The words ‘PLACE HAND HERE’ are written above it.

 _Crap._ Why didn’t he think of this? Of course they had handprint recognition - it was standard practice these days.

He clenches his fist tight. A small part of him wonders if the system would still recognize him, but the rational part of him knows it won’t.

 _Think, Tooru, think!_ If he can’t use his own hand, he needs to use someone else’s.

His places his hands on his hips, his palm running over the bulge in his right pocket he didn’t notice before. He frowns, and pulls out the long, bloodied bandage - it was from summer camp. He almost can’t believe he hadn’t taken it out of his pocket since then, but he realizes he hasn’t even touched these clothes since the the moment he’d taken them off on his last day.

Suddenly he knows what to do.

He wraps his right hand in the bandage, just like he used to, and steps out of the room.

The group of juvies has dispersed to their individual desks. Oikawa walks up to one of them, located a little further from the rest, and taps her shoulder. She turns around, and looks at Oikawa with a curious stare.

His heart his racing so fast he’s worried it’s going to run right out of his chest. He forces himself to smile at her and bow. “Hello - My name’s Oikawa Tooru, I just started here for training. I don’t think we’ve met yet?”

She shakes her head. “No, we haven’t. Misaki Hana, nice to meet you. I didn’t know we were hiring an intern.”

Oikawa hums. “That’s funny - news usually travels fast around a station this small.”

She sighs. “Yeah, well no one ever tells me anything, so no surprise there.”

Oikawa laughs jokingly. “Hey, think you can help me out?” he says, waving his bandaged hand. “Some punk scratched my hand up pretty good, and I don’t think handprint recognition will recognize me.”

She stands up and nods. “No problem.”

Oikawa nearly sighs in relief as they walk back into the back room and she unlocks the database for him. He still can’t believe this is working.

“Thanks,” he tells her. “Next time I hear anything newsworthy, you’ll be the first to know, Misaki-senpai.”

She practically glows. “No problem, newbie.” She salutes him and leaves him to work.

The moment she closes the door behind her, Oikawa nearly collapses from sheer relief. That was one of the most nerve-wracking experiences of his life. He just convinced a _Juvey-cop_ to break into the Unwind database _for_ him. _This’ll be a great story tell one day,_ Oikawa decides. _Iwa-chan will never believe me._

Thinking about Iwaizumi brings Oikawa back to his task. That right - now that he’s in, he needs to track down Iwaizumi. He approaches the screen and starts a search:

I W A I Z U M I  H A J

 _Slam!_ The door flies open and bangs against the wall. Oikawa jumps back. Misaki stands in the doorway, tranq gun in her hands aimed at his chest. “Seems like this time, I’m going to be the one spreading the news,” she proclaims. “We didn’t hire an intern.”

Oikawa tightens, and raises his hands in surrender. _Shit, shit, shit -_ “W-what are you saying, Misaki-senpai? I don’t - ”

“Drop the act, Oikawa, or whatever your real name is. You’re not fooling me again.”

Oikawa gulps. His eyes flicker to the screen next to him. He was so close - _so fucking close_ , if only he was faster, or asked someone else, or broke in when it was late or something, if he had done anything differently, he could have had the information he so desperately craves -

“Hey. Don’t even _think_ about moving, AWOL,” she warns, stepping closer to him.

This is it. At this point, it’s easier - and smarter - to comply, rather than keep up an act that no one will buy.

Oikawa sighs. “I’m not an AWOL,” he says. He nods to the device attached to the Juvey’s belt. “Check your DNA tester if you don’t believe me.”

“Hands behind your back.”

Oikawa complies. She walks around him and cuffs him.

 _Funny,_ Oikawa thinks. _I’ve put these on before, but never had them put on me._ It makes him feel like a wild animal that needs to be caged. Which was exactly what Misaki thought he was.

A needle pokes his wrist, and Oikawa twitches. A moment later, Misaki drags him out of the room. “Huh. Guess you were right. You aren’t in the Unwind Registrar after all, Tooru-chan. Guess we’ll have to figure out something else to do with you.”

She places him in the empty cell, leaving him alone as she goes to talk to her superiors. Oikawa leans back in his seat and tightens his fists.

The game’s up. Plan C has failed.

 

 

**x. Tsukishima Kei**

_(Sept. 24)_

 

Over the past few days, Tsukishima has discovered that glasses and nature don’t mix. They’re always covered in dust or dirt and there’s always a glare from the sun and no matter how many times he cleans them, they won’t stop smudging.

He used to complain about his glasses all the time, but never around Yamaguchi. In this age, glasses were obsolete. Why carry around a clunky pair of glasses when you could just get a new pair of perfectly functioning eyes? There were still some people who wore glasses - those who can’t afford a new pair of eyes, those that thought glasses made them look smart. Tsukishima suspects Yamaguchi thinks he’s the latter. But he’s neither of those people - he’s in a third group, of those that refuse to take the eyes on an unwind for political reasons.

Unfortunately that means he has to put up with these horrid frames. And he can’t complain about it either. If he complains, Yamaguchi will preach about the virtues of unwinding, how he’d be freed of the evils of glasses if he’d only accept a new pair of eyes like everyone else does. Maybe he’d even offer up his own eyes.

He cringes at the thought.

Yamaguchi has always been too selfless for his own good. That’s why he’s so staunchly convinced that being a tithe is a good thing. He needs to teach Yamaguchi to be selfish before they reach civilization again (Because in no way does he believe Yamaguchi has actually changed his mind, no matter what he says. He’s been brainwashed too long to turn coat so quickly.)

Fortunately, Tsukishima’s good at selfish. Selfish is why they’re here.

“Tsukki...where are we?”

The temple gate looms above them, its fresh red paint opposing the green of the greenery around it. Behind his fuzzy vision the colors seem to blend together. Tsukishima frowns. _Stupid glasses._

“You don’t remember?” he says to Yamaguchi, walking under the gate while taking off his glasses to clean.

Yamaguchi follows him, and they walk through the temple grounds, around the main building and past the red temple bell, until they reach the cemetery. There’s no one else there, not even the monk that takes care of this temple.

It’s a good thing they’re alone; he doesn’t want any trouble from people questioning why two thirteen-year-olds, nearly in their prime for unwinding, are wandering around alone.

He walks through the cemetery slowly, passing the rows and rows of tall stone altars decorated in myriad names. There’s incense burning for one or two of them, with thin trails of smoke slowly swirling skywards. Besides the clack of their footsteps along the stone path and the bubble of a nearby stream, it’s completely quiet. They walk to the very back of the cemetery, where the path ends and splits into a T. Stone altars similar to those in the rest of the cemetery line the ground, but they’re smaller, less elaborate, and there’s only a few dozen. Despite its appearance, this is not part of the cemetery.

Yamaguchi pauses. “This is a memoratorium, right?” he asks. Suddenly Yamaguchi stills, and Tsukishima can see the realization set in. “Is this - oh…”

Tsukishima turns left and walks down the path until he finds it - a small, dark granite plaque labeled in red, _Tsukishima Akiteru_.

Shortly after the Unwind Accord was adopted in Japan, crops of altars like these began to spring up in temples and shrines and even public parks, make-shift gravesites for unwinds that came to be known as memoratoriums. Since unwinds are, by law, technically not dead, they aren’t allowed a funeral. Unlike their American predecessors, who preferred to forget about unwinds as soon as the Juvies took them away, some members of Japanese unwinding culture wished to remember those who lived in a divided state. Despite the overwhelming secularism, religious ceremonies still remained embedded in their culture, including a Buddhist style funeral, and it didn’t feel right to let unwinds disappear without something to remember them by. So close friends, family that didn’t want to see the unwind go, family that signed the order and wished pray away their guilt, all set up memoriums for unwinds. Unlike a proper funeral, there is no ceremony for an unwind’s memorium. The law prevents this. But unwinds are given memoriums anyway, where family or friends can burn incense for them and hope their spirits are at peace, until their body parts and soul truly die and transition once more into a new state.

Not all unwinds are dignified with a memorium. Many go without one, because many unwinds didn’t have anyone who loved them enough to do even this much for them - that’s why there were unwound in the first place.

Tsukishima should know - his parents hadn’t even thought to make one for Akiteru. But he had. He had this made a week after Akiteru was taken. His parents still don’t know it exists; he doesn’t think they’d come if they knew, anyway. Yamaguchi is the only other one who knew about Akiteru’s memorium; he’d come with him the very first time he visited. The monk had been there, and had chanted a sutra Tsukishima didn’t recognize before patting Tsukishima on the back and leaving him and Yamaguchi to mourn in peace.

Sometimes the family of an unwind would purchase one of their bones - usually the coccyx, since it’s a useless bone that no one would need transplanted anyway - and place it in an urn, in place of the typical remains of the deceased’s cremated body. He didn’t have the money or the want to buy any part of Akiteru, so they’d simply burned incense for him and left it at that.

That was two years ago. He’d come back only once since then, but the memorium looks exactly the same as before.

He kneels down in front of the stone, Yamaguchi settling next to him. He doesn’t have any incense with him, so he simply pays his respects in the only way he can - by kneeling in silence.

Tsukishima doesn’t know how long they sit there, but when his knees start to ache, he stands up. Yamaguchi does, too, and they walk back down the path and out of the temple.

He watches Yamaguchi as he walks ahead. Tsukishima made him change out of his tithing greens, into some of his clothes. Tithes wore green all of their lives, in order to symbolize eternal life and new beginnings. The colors have isolated Yamaguchi, shining a spotlight on him he always shied away from, marking him as a target for bullying. Tsukishima should know - he used to chase those pathetic kids away.

This is the first time Tsukishima has seen Yamaguchi in normal clothes. He's wearing Tsukishima's skinny jeans and an orange tank top. The new colors bring more life in him than green does. It looks good on him.

“Tsukki...do you think tithes get memoriums too?” Yamaguchi asks once they pass under the gate. Tsukishima shifts his gaze, hoping Yamaguchi hadn’t noticed him staring.

“Yes,” he says. He knows Yamaguchi knows this, but indulges him anyway. Tithes were the most likely of all unwinds to get memoriums - their parents thought they were doing something grand by giving their child up, and probably liked to gloat about their magnanimity and remember their ‘kindness’ through immortalizing their child's name in stone.

Yamaguchi kicks the dirt beneath his feet. “When I go...can you make one for me?”

“No,” Tsukishima says immediately.

Yamaguchi is quiet. Tsukishima rolls his eyes. “Because I’m not going to let you get unwound, idiot,” he clarifies.

Yamaguchi’s eyes widen, and he blushes. “Oh. Right...”

He needs to get Yamaguchi to the Court before he has a chance to run away. He’s heard rumors about the Court, a safe haven for unwinds to wait out their viable years until they can reenter society. That’s where he’s taking Yamaguchi.

He just needs time - time to undo all the brainwashing and lies that Yamaguchi has been buried in. Only then will he be truly safe from himself.

Once the temple is out of sight, they sit down at the base of a big tree and take out their lunch - another tub of rice. They only have two more, which means they need to find somewhere to restock soon. Unfortunate.

“A memoratorium is as much a gravesite as the rest of the cemetery is,” he says, handing the tub of rice to Yamaguchi after he’s taken a few bites. One tub, shared between them, for one meal - it was the most convenient way to pack food.

Yamaguchi takes the rice from him and frowns. “That’s not true…”

“Isn’t it?” he says. “They’re gravestones, Yamaguchi. Everything we did for Akiteru, we would do for his funeral. We were _mourning_ him. He deserved better - he deserved a proper funeral.”

“But he _isn’t dead_ ,” Yamaguchi stresses, shoving the rice back at Tsukishima. “His body parts are in living humans, or being preserved so that one day, they can be used again. There’s still warmth in him, he moves, he breathes, his heart still beats - he’s not a corpse.”

“Is that how you define life?” he asks, taking another scoop. “Not-a-corpse?”

Yamaguchi eyes him cautiously. “...is this a trick question?”

“Yes,” Tsukishima deadpans.

Yamaguchi smiles, and takes the rice from him. “This is why people don’t like you,” he teases.

Tsukishima smirks. “How enlightening. Should I take notes?”

“You haven’t started yet? I’ve been spouting gold for years, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi says.

Tsukishima snorts. “It’s the only reason I’ve gotten this far,” he jests.  

Yamaguchi laughs. “Yeah, where would you be without me, Tsukki...?”

He gets quiet. Without Yamaguchi’s laugh, the silence is deafening.

The truth is Tsukishima doesn’t know where he would be without his best friend - and he’s afraid to find out. Tsukishima has always considered himself to be very independent, but Yamaguchi has ingrained himself in Tsukishima’s life, and he’s worried who he’ll be without him.

Like he said - he’s selfish. That’s why he’s saving Yamaguchi, after all.

He wonders if Yamaguchi has thought about it too, about leaving Tsukishima - no doubt he has, knowing the selfless worry wart he is. Tsukishima’s tried to use this weakness against him since the first day they left. But Yamaguchi’s wall of righteousness has been impenetrable; he always manages to find an argument that he was ‘helping more people this way’ or that ‘these people need me more than you do.’

Honestly, it makes him sick. And not because of all the ‘duty’ and ‘for the greater good’ bullshit. It makes him sick that Yamaguchi cares more about these imaginary people than he does about Tsukki. It’s jealousy, plain and simple, and it hurts more than it should.

Yamaguchi clears his throat. “Tsukki...if you don’t think unwinds are alive, then...how do you define life?”

“Consciousness,” he says. He’s thought longer about this than he cares to admit, but at least that means he has an answer prepared. “You generate thoughts with your consciousness. In a ‘divided state,’ your thoughts - if it’s even possible to have thoughts - are not your own. The new body’s thoughts influence whatever was left of your original conscious. That’s what death is like - you lose your thoughts, your consciousness, and you cease to be a person, to be alive. So, unwinding is death...maybe even worse than it.”

“Oh,” Yamaguchi says. “I never thought of it that way.”

“Most people don’t. They sleep better that way.”

Yamaguchi sets the empty tub on the ground. “I always thought that if some part of m - uh, an unwind lives on, then you live on, too. Just knowing that my hands won’t stop working, my blood won’t stop flowing, my brain won’t stop thinking...it’s comforting.”

“But it won’t be your brain anymore. Or your heart, or your hands. Those thoughts won’t be yours,” Tsukishima points out.

Yamaguchi grins. “I guess you’re right about that…” He stuffs the empty container into one of their bags, and stands up, holding out a hand for Tsukki to take.

Tsukishima stare at his hand, and asks him, “Do you still want to be unwound?”

“Tithed,” Yamaguchi corrects, pulling his hand back. “And I already told you...I’m thinking about it.”

He’s lying. Tsukishima knows that _Yamaguchi_ knows that he never believed him.

“Really?” he asks. He stares at Yamaguchi intently, willing his answer to be honest this time.

“Really,” Yamaguchi asserts. He stretches out his hand once again.

Tsukishima takes his hand and stands. Yamaguchi’s being sincere, he knows it - and that means he still has a chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the word _me moratorium _is meant to be a kind of combination of memorial and moratorium; memorial, obviously, to honor and remember those lost, and moratorium as in a break/waiting period - the time until true death__
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> _next up: more kuroo and kenma and a visit from your favorite crows ;)_  
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	4. History

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa Tooru is more patient than people give him credit for. Akaashi Keiji refuses to ever play Monopoly ever again. Ever. Yamaguchi Tadashi wishes he was a Ghibli character. Tanaka Ryuunosuke has never done anything wrong in his life (I know this and I love him.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I start classes tomorrow ( °ｰ°) kill me now. because of my new schedule, i'm going to start posting chapters on sunday instead of Thursday now! so extra chapter this week

**xi. Oikawa Tooru**

_(Sept. 22)_

 

Just because Plan C failed doesn’t mean he has any intention of giving up.

But for now, there’s not much he can do about it.

After Misaki apprehended him, and found out who he was, they sent him home. His parents were livid when they found out what he’d done, and practically put him under house arrest. He’s only allowed to leave for school, and his mother drives him and picks him up immediately after practice.

The first night, as he lay on his bed staring at the rotating stars projected on his ceiling, he wondered if he really should go after Iwaizumi. After all, Iwaizumi had only said to _wait_ for him, not to find him himself. He has a life here, with his skill and drive, he knows he can do anything - going after Iwaizumi puts all that at risk. But he finds he doesn’t care about all that; there’s more important things to him right now than his future. He has a duty to protect the system and a need to save Iwaizumi. Oikawa abandoned any thought of giving up, after that first night. Once Oikawa Tooru sets his mind to something, it gets done.  

So now, he sits in his room, pretending to do homework, while he thinks about his next move. He considers trying Plan C again, at a new Juvey-station, this time fixing the flaws that his first attempt revealed. But he realizes he has a better means of finding data he needs.

He taps on his computer screen, which opens up to Yahoo News.

_Dah Zey Forces Spotted in Thailand -_

_Drama for Pop Idol Group FUKURO4 -_

_Minister of Finance Allocates More Funds to Junior Juvies -_

_Another Attack on Mt. Taihaku Harvest Camp -_

Oikawa ignores the headlines and types in the search bar: Ushijima Wakatoshi.

Why try and deceive a computer for information when it’s so much easier to pull out of a person?

Oikawa forms Plan D in his head. But it’s not even a possibility while he’s under house arrest - his parents are breathing down his neck, like they’re waiting for him to do something wrong.

So he plays the part that everyone expects him to play: he wears a pout in front of his parents and a smile at school, and pretends like nothing’s wrong, like he’s learned his lesson.

 _This is just a setback_ , he tells himself. He’s going to find Ushijima, and then he’s going to find Iwaizumi.

As soon as he sees an opportunity he’s going to take it. He just needs to wait.

 

**xii. Akaashi Keiji**

_(Sept. 21)_

 

Akaashi wakes up slowly, tossing back and forth in his cot until he hears muttering and the light from the lamp strikes against his eyelids. Everything comes back to him in waves, everything from the past two days. In forty eight hours, his life has turned a hundred and eighty degrees - he’d been knocked off the top of totem pole and struggled to keep himself from falling even further.

But he’s here. He’s still hanging on.

“...and then, ‘Kaashi pulls out the key, and says, ‘You aren’t going to harvest camp on my watch’ and everyone starts screaming - ”

“No way!”

“Yes way! I couldn’t believe it either!

Akaashi opens his eyes and sits up. Bokuto and Kuroo are sitting cross-legged on Bokuto’s cot, as Bokuto apparently tells him about their grand escape yesterday. Though they seem to remember it quite differently. “I’m pretty sure I didn’t say that,” Akaashi tells them.

Bokuto waves his hand. “Eh, details.”

The taste in his mouth his foul, so Akaashi uses the bathroom to freshen up. When he gets back, the others are munching on convenience store bread. Kenma has joined them in circle, though he looks like he’s paying more attention to his bread than the conversation. Kuroo tosses one to him. “Hope you like melon bread.”

He doesn’t. “...thank you,” he says anyway.

He sits down next to Bokuto while he finishes telling their story, ripping open the wrapping on the bread. He normally tries to avoid cheap breakfasts like this, but he supposes he should be thankful he’s been provided with breakfast at all.

“...and then, Shibayama drops to his knees and says ‘Bokuto-senpai, thank you for rescuing me! I owe you my life! And I pat him on the head, you know - ” he reaches over and ruffles Kenma’s hair, causing him to make a noise that sounds like a drowning cat, “ - and I tell him ‘All in a day’s work, kid,’ but he’s insistent that he owes us, so he tells us about this place. We asked him to come with us - begged him, really - but he insisted he go on without us. Said he needed to make his mark, save who can be saved, like we did for him. It was super inspiring.”

“Wow,” Kuroo says with a smile, not a smirk. “I can’t believe it.”

“You shouldn’t. That’s not how it happened,” chides Akaashi.

Bokuto grins. “Okay, I might have exaggerated a little…”

“How did it really happen, then?” Kuroo asks.

Akaashi tries to keep his face as neutral as possible and says, “Shibayama did say all of that. But he said it to _me_.”

Kuroo breaks out in laughter.

“‘Kaashi!” Bokuto whines. “That’s not how it happened either!”

Kuroo snorts. “There’s no way he said that to either of you.” He sobers up, and looks almost contemplative. “But the rest of it - did you guys really do all that?”

“Yup,” Bokuto asserts. Akaashi corroborates his affirmation with a nod.

“Wow...that’s incredible.” Kuroo taps Kenma on his knee. “Isn’t that incredible?”

Kenma’s already looking at them, eyes wide. “Yeah...it is…”

Akaashi blushes, just as he had done when Bokuto had complimented him last night. He’s use to people admiring him, but not in this way. It’s kind of nice.

 

As the day goes by, Bokuto gets increasingly...irritating. He won’t shut up, about the most mundane of things, jumping from topic to topic like a cicada in summer. He can’t seem to sit still; he walks around and around the room and he plays with the bags their bread came in and taps in fingers on the wall even after Akaashi tells him it might attract the attention of people outside. But he looks so distressed and put out, Akaashi doesn’t have the heart to be mad at him.

 _He’s probably stressed,_ Akaashi surmises. Akaashi is also stressed, but right now he’s stressing about Bokuto’s stress instead of stressing about his own, which would be far more frustrating to deal with than this.

As it is, he can only watch as Bokuto fidgets and paces. He wants to do something to help, but he doesn’t know what, so he just sits next to Kenma and watches.

Kuroo seems to pick up on this, though. He asks Bokuto to do a workout with him.

“Really?!” Bokuto yells excitedly. Akaashi shushes him (can’t have anyone hearing them) and he snaps a hand over his mouth. “Really?” he whispers instead.

Kuroo nods. “Yeah, you seem like a fit guy.”

“Thanks,” Bokuto says. Akaashi hadn’t really thought about it before, but now that he looks, Bokuto does seem rather muscled. “I play volleyball, and I’m the team’s ace! Or, I was…”

“That’s great!” Kuroo says, leading the conversation back before it takes a turn for the worst. “Are there any workouts you know?”

Bokuto looks around the room, tapping his foot. “There’s not much we can do in here, but I’ll come up with something. Akaashi, you wanna join?”

“No thanks,” he says.

Bokuto turns to the beanbag, where Kenma’s nestled with his gaming device. “How about you, Kenma?”

Kenma doesn’t even look up from his game.

“...I’ll take that as a no.”

Akaashi watches as the two begin their workout. They take off their shirts, and Akaashi sees that Kuroo was right - Bokuto _is_  fit. He wonders how he didn’t notice before. His thighs and calves are toned, and even though he has a bit of a belly, his back and shoulders are muscled and his biceps are, well, pleasing to the eye. And if Akaashi can’t help himself from staring...who can blame him?

Bokuto looks happy to finally something to do. He has a smile on his face every time he tells Kuroo their next exercise, and that smile doesn’t leave his face even as he pants and sweat rolls down his sides and - Akaashi’s getting distracted again.

He’s thankful for Kuroo, for giving Bokuto something to do. He wasn’t sure what to think of Kuroo, yesterday. He gave off a mischievous vibe, but Akaashi was quickly realizing he was genuinely kind. Though he isn’t ready to trust him quite yet.

 _Do I even trust Bokuto-san?_ Akaashi wonders. All of yesterday’s events had drastically changed his opinion in a short amount of time. And he’d meant what he said, yesterday, about Bokuto being brave. _But admiration doesn’t equal trust._

One thing was for sure - Bokuto felt familiar. His entire life from before is gone, and Bokuto is the only thing that has remained consistent since Akaashi was brought to the Juvey-station. He needs every comfort he can, and his familiarity with Bokuto, sheerly from the events that bonded them together, is the most comforting thing he has yet.

How strange that a boy he met yesterday is the closest thing he has to stability right now.

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi asks him after he and Kuroo finish their work-out. He forces himself not to look down at Bokuto’s biceps. “You said you had ADHD.”

Bokuto smiles sheepishly. “Yeah...it’s okay if you don’t believe me, though. Lots of people don’t think it’s real.”

Akaashi frowns. He knows it’s true. He had a friend, from the state home, who had ADHD. Only, no one had believed him, and he didn’t get treatment for years, but by that time it was too late - he fell victim to budget cuts, and was sent to be unwound.

“I think it’s real,” he says. He brightens at Bokuto’s satisfied smile. “I was wondering...do you take medication for it?”

Bokuto nods. “I was diagnosed by a doctor a few years ago, but my parents thought he was some crackpot, and that I only need to focus more and put my heart into it and everything would turn out okay. It was my own fault for not trying hard enough.” His smile turns grim. “I believed them for a long time, but...my friend Washio, he showed me some stuff online, about managing ADHD and all, and it was really helpful. I wanted to try medication, too, so I’ve been taking Ritalin for a few months, and I think it’s helping. My parents don’t know...it’s kind of expensive...and I don’t think they’d like me taking it...they’re big on natural remedies.”

Akaashi nods. “Do you think it’d help? If you had it now.”

Bokuto hesitates for a moment, and then begins rocking back and forth. “It’s okay. I can manage without it,” Bokuto says.

“But do you think it’d help?”

Akaashi watches as he chews his lip, and his rocking gets a little faster. “...yeah,” he finally says. “But, it’s not like we can get it here.”

Akaashi watches as Bokuto  “Have you tried asking?”

Bokuto shakes his head. “No no no no no - I can’t ask that of them - ”

“Why not give it a try?” Kuroo interrupts, kneeling down next to them. “Sorry for listening in, but I couldn’t help but overhear. Three square meters of space, you know?” He gestures vaguely at the homely little room. “Anyways, I met this girl at this one safe house, and she asked the people there for anti-depressants, and they went out and bought them for her. She said that ay the other safe houses, they would provide her with meds most of the time, but sometimes not. So it’s worth a shot to ask.”

“You think so?” Bokuto says, rocking in Kuroo’s direction.

“Sure,” Kuroo says. “I can ask for you, if you like.”

“Nah, I can ask myself. I’m the one who wants them, after all.”

While they wait for the Nekoma people to come back again, Akaashi turns to Kuroo and asks, “How many safe houses have you guys been to so far?” Akaashi knows that in this safe house system, they relocate kids around after several, to avoid suspicion and move them closer to some final destination they had yet to know more about. He still doesn’t really understand the system, but Kuroo sounds like he does.

Kuroo counts on his fingers. “Hmm, we’ve been at - ”

“Four,” Kenma says.

Kuroo raises an eyebrow. “I thought it was five?”

Kenma looks up from his game to glare at him. “The first one doesn’t count.”

“The first one _definitely_ counts,” Kuroo says with a smirk.

“No sane person could call that house safe - ”

“Just because - ”

_“Don’t.”_

Akaashi and Bokuto look at each other. He wonders if Bokuto is also wondering how there could possibly be confusion about whether a safe house is a safe house or not. There’s a story there, but from Kenma’s tone, they’ll probably never know it.

Eventually a Nekoma employees comes back and delivers their lunches, and Bokuto asks about his medication, Ritalin. The employee says they’ll have it for him tomorrow. Bokuto cheers, and Akaashi can’t help but smile, too.

 

_(Sept. 22)_

 

The Ritalin helps. Akaashi can see it in Bokuto’s actions. He’s less jumpy, even though he still can’t stop talking. But it’s nice to have something to fill the silence. Plus, Bokuto has a nice voice.

“...and oh my god, their faces! I’ve never seen my mom look more horrified in her _life_ \- except maybe when I brought home that owl egg, now _that_ was awesome - ”

“Wait wait wait, back up. Your parents found out you had glow-in-the-dark pigment injections because you _forgot_ _your eyes glow in the dark?”_

“Yup.”

“And you had a nightmare, so you woke them up at three in the morning? By shoving your glowing eyes right in their faces?”

“It was a scary nightmare!”

“You were sixteen!”

They all giggle at that, even Kenma. They’re seated in a square around Kenma’s beanbag while Bokuto tells them stories from before. Akaashi’s beginning to form a clearer picture of Bokuto in his head. He also thinks he understands why Bokuto’s parents decided to have their son unwound, even if he wholeheartedly disagrees with them.

Kuroo snorts. “You’re a dumbass!”

Bokuto laughs, but it sounds forced. “Yeah, that was pretty stupid…”

Kuroo takes ahold of Bokuto’s shoulders and looks him straight in the eyes, dead serious. “No - that was fucking brilliant.”

“You think so!?” Bokuto lights up, his smile so blinding that Akaashi has to look away. “Ha! My parents didn’t. Said that pigments ruins your eyes and stuff.”

“That’s a myth,” Kenma says. They all look up at him, and he shrinks into his beanbag. “It is. Adults just say that so that their kids won’t get them.”

“Why?” Bokuto asks.

“Natural eyes are worth more than pigmented ones.”

“You know,” Kuroo says. “That makes a disturbing amount of sense.”

The all nod in agreement. Akaashi doesn’t think it’s surprising. There are a lot of myths adults spread to manipulate kids; he’s uncovered some of them firsthand.

“Adults are fucked up,” Bokuto declares.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Akaashi says.

Kuroo nods. “Yeah. There was this one time, back at the staho, when Kenma and I - ”

Akaashi’s eyes shoot open and he blurts, “You guys are staho kids?”

Kuroo nods. Akaashi’s surprised, even though he shouldn’t be. Staho kids make up a large portion of unwinds. But he never would have guessed that Kuroo and Kenma were staho kids too - they don’t act like it at all.

There must be something in his face that gives him away, because Kuroo asks, “Wait - are you, too?”

Akaashi nods. It’s not the entire truth, but it’s not a lie.

“Tokyo fifteen. You?”

“Tokyo...four.” Akaashi hopes he sounds convincing enough.

“Whoa,” Bokuto says. “Is that, like, staho code or something?”

Akaashi shakes his head. “It’s the home we’re from. There’s a few dozen in every prefecture.”

“Oh.”

State homes, or stahos, as they’re more often called, were another institution plagiarized from the American system. Abandoned babies, or unwanted storks, were given over to the government to a public orphanage. There were up to two hundred kids in a single staho, and life there was tough. You had to learn to fend for yourself at a young age, because no one else would fend for you. There was always something to worry about, whether it was getting the good food during meals, or charming the right instructors, or learning to avoid the right people. The worst part were the gleanings. Too many staho kids and not enough room equaled a portion of kids being sent to harvest camp. Akaashi would know.

Bokuto cocks his head. "Why were you guys, um..." Bokuto seems to change his mind about asking the question halfway through.

Kuroo sits up. "You want to know what we were being unwound for?"

Bokuto gives a little nod.

"We were just the unlucky victims," Kuroo sighs. "Every staho has them. The ones that aren't smart enough, or strong enough, or talented enough to keep around. The ones least likely to make something of themselves." He kicks Kenma's beanbag. "Though I don't know why this one was on the list. He's a wiz with technology, could hack the Unwind Database itself if he wanted to. They were so proud to have him, their own little prodigy."

Kenma burrows deeper into the beanbag, hiding his face behind his gaming device. "Shut up," he mumbles.

"I refuse," Kuroo says, causing Kenma to roll his eyes. "You know, he's the reason we're here right now. He broke into the staho's files every gleaning to make sure we were in the safe zone. And on the day we weren't, we booked it. He saved our lives." He leans over and ruffles Kenma's hair.

"Wow - both of you at once? How crazy is that?" Bokuto remarks.

"I know," Kuroo says. "Me, I understand, I didn't amount to much, but Kenma showed so much promise..."

"There were budget cuts," Kenma mumbles from behind his game. "They had to get rid of a lot of us...Kuroo excelled, too. I don’t know why he didn’t make the cut.”

“Aw Kenma, was that a compliment?”

Akaashi glances at Kenma, but he’s hiding behind his device. “No,” he says. “You’re smart. That’s just...how you are.”

Kuroo’s smirk morphs into a genuine smile, and his face turns pink. “Nah, I was only good at math and chem,” Kuroo says. “And literature. And actually programming, too.”

“How humble of you,” Akaashi remarks.

“What about you, Akaashi?” Bokuto asks. “Why were you...you know…”

Akaashi clenches his teeth. He wonders how much he can say without giving himself away.

They’re all staring at him now, waiting for an answer, their curious eyes poking holes in his composure. They probably don’t know how much pressure they’re putting on him; they’re just curious. He has to give them something, and it’s easier if it’s the truth. Or, some of it.

Choosing his words carefully, he says, “You guys were academics, right?”

Kuroo nods. “My specialty was science. Kenma’s was computing.”

From what Kuroo said, that’s not surprising. “I was a talent,” Akaashi says. “A musician.”

“Wait. Am I missing something?” Bokuto says. “I was listening, I really was, but I’m confused…”

“Nah, you didn’t miss anything,” Kuroo says. “We just forgot to explain it to you.”

“There are different sects within the stahos,” Akaashi explains. “Everyone has to choose their path from a young age. There are academics, athletes, and talents. The academics primarily study in a certain academic field, athletes train to be professionals, or military or policemen, and talents are the artists.”

“Oh,” Bokuto says in understanding. “Okay. I get it. You can keep going now.”

“You said you’re a musician?” Kuroo prompts.

Akaashi nods. “I play cello, bass, and bass guitar.”

“Wow! That’s so cool!” Bokuto exclaims. “What kind of music do you play?”

Akaashi shrugs. “Anything I can. I like classical, and enjoy old rock, from the 2000s era. But...I love everything,” he says. “As long as I get to play.”

He glances down at his hands, tapping his fingers together. It hasn’t been long since he’s held his bass guitar, but his fingers itch to play it again. He wants a bow in his hand, or a pick; he wants to feel strings slight against his calloused fingertips, and feel his heart vibrate at the low pitches.

He can’t believe he’s gone this long without thinking about music. But ever since that night, his mind’s been racing. Luckily he’s had enough to do to keep his head filled with other thoughts, but now, with all their downtime in the little room, Akaashi struggles to keep those thoughts away.

He wonders if the media’s found out about the incident yet. Probably. He’s suddenly glad they can’t access the internet in here.

“Wait a minute.”

Akaashi glances up. Kuroo’s staring at him intently.

“I know where I know you from.”

His stomach drops. _No, no no no no - I can’t handle this right now -_

“You were on that reality show! The one that finds the crazy talented staho kids, right?”

Akaashi nearly sighs in relief. Better he know this half of the story than the other.

“What’s it called - Staho Stars, right?” Kuroo turns to Kenma, for confirmation. He nods, then looks at Akaashi curiously. “Yeah - you were on it a few years ago. No wonder you look so familiar! You played that cello piece - ”

“Cello Suite number one. Prelude. By Bach.”

“ - and it was so amazing! You’re crazy talented.”

Akaashi decides that this is okay. Kuroo can think he remembers Akaashi from the show, and maybe he won’t ask any more questions, and Kuroo can just admire him as a talented staho kid, nothing more and nothing less.

“Thanks,” Akaashi says.

Kenma’s still staring at him. “Did you watch it too?” Akaashi asks him.

Kenma nods, his eyes bright. “Kuroo’s right. You were...really good,” he says.

Akaashi smiles. “Thanks.”

Bokuto scratches his head. “I don’t get it. If you were so good, why’d they sign your unwind order?”

Kuroo smacks his arm, but Akaashi knows he’s just as curious.

“Um…I wasn’t good enough…?” He lets the words tumble out because he can’t think of anything better.

Kuroo raises an eyebrow. “You’re telling me that they gleaned you because you weren’t good enough? After you were on _Staho Stars?”_

“I...reached my potential. I wasn’t getting any better.”

For a moment, Kuroo his silent. _Please believe me, please believe me._ Then Kuroo shakes his head in disbelief. “Like I said - adults are fucked up.”

 _Stupid._ He needs to come up with a better lie for next time. Maybe something about how he injured his hands, and he couldn’t keep playing. That was much more believable.

“Well, it could have been worse,” Kuroo remarks.

Bokuto frowns. “How could it have been worse?”

“At least you got away,” Kuroo says. “You could have been at the staho that shut down. Which was it again…?”

“Tokyo five,” Kenma supplies.

“Yeah. When they shut down a few years ago, they had to unwind everyone. Two hundred kids, can you believe it? I heard they turned the place into a harvest camp just so they wouldn’t have to ship them all out.”

“That’s fucked up,” Bokuto says at a whisper.

“Yeah,” Kuroo says. “If we had been there, there’s no way we could have gotten out.”

Akaashi feels sick. “I’m tired,” he says, standing up, turning their square into a triangle. “I’m going to go to sleep soon.” He walks into the bathroom and closes the door behind him before any of them can say anything.

 

That night, Akaashi dreams of the stage. He dreams of his bass, and of music blaring through speakers, and the faces of his friends that disappear into the darkness of the audience, calling out his name, getting further and further away -

_“Keiji...Keiji...Keiji…”_

He wakes in a cold sweat, and lies awake the rest of the night, staring at the ceiling.

 

_(Sept. 24)_

 

The moment he lands on Boardwalk - decorated with not one, but three houses - for the second time, Akaashi abandons the game of Monopoly.

“Ah, c’mon Akaashi, you aren’t even bankrupt yet,” Kuroo protests.

“I am done. My mind is made up,” he says. “We’ve been playing all day, and I’m tired.”

“Yeah, and we can’t let Bokuto win after all of that!” Kuroo says.

Bokuto smirks, even more deviously than Kuroo. “It’ll be more fun if I can beat you both,” he teases.

Akaashi hands his money to Kuroo (to Bokuto’s dismay), sweeps his single house off the board, and sits next to Kenma on his beanbag.

Kenma had been playing on his gaming device ever since he had given up on the game two hours ago. He went bankrupt, but Kuroo claimed he did it on purpose. Kenma didn’t deny it.

Akaashi leans against the beanbag and watches Kenma play his game. It’s some fantasy quest, with red haired swordsman and a devil with weirdly nice hair. Kenma’s playing as a mage in white, who looks oddly like him.

The character Kenma’s fighting is some kind of demon, with horns and a red coat and a nasty grin. Kenma shoots spells at him and misses, twice, and the demon strikes him. Kenma sighs. It doesn’t seem like he’s invested in the game.

Now that he notices, the demon character kind of reminds him of Kuroo. It’s funny, almost like Kenma and Kuroo are fighting each other. Akaashi can’t imagine it happening in real life. They had this kind of dynamic, one that only comes with years of familiarity, one that anyone could be jealous of. They seemed to know each other’s thoughts without having to ask, they bickered like an old married couple, and it was obvious how deeply they cared for each other.  

“You and Kuroo seem rather close. Are you…” he trails off, noticing Kenma’s uneasy fidgeting,“…nevermind.”

Kenma plays through the whole level, and then pauses the game and puts it down. “You were going to ask if Kuroo and I are together,” he says confidently. He doesn’t meet Akaashi’s eyes.

Akaashi doesn’t answer, because Kenma already knows that’s exactly what he was going to ask.

“Kuroo and I have known each other our whole lives. We both came to the staho as babies, and somehow, we became friends,” Kenma says, looking up at Kuroo as he irritably shoves money at Bokuto. They're so invested in their game that they aren’t even listening to them talk. “He has a magnetic personality. He draws people in, with his smile, and his humor, and his kindness. Don’t tell him I said that, though. He’ll gloat about it for weeks.”

Akaashi mimes zipping his lips shut.

Satisfied, Kenma goes on. “I never understood why he chose me of all people – he could have been friends with anyone there, the strong kids, the smart ones, the ones everyone played favorite to – but he stayed with me, defended me, when he could have had so much more. He’s still by my side, even now, looking after me. I think I…”

He trails off, and Akaashi can only guess what he would have said.

“We’re like brothers,” Kenma says robotically, like it’s something he tells himself often. “So I don’t think he thinks of me that way…”

Normally Akaashi wouldn’t press on, but he finds Kuroo and Kenma’s relationship...intriguing. And Kenma seems glad to talk to him about this, which Akaashi isn’t surprised about. Kuroo’s probably the only one he has to talk to, and it’s not like Kenma could talk to Kuroo about liking Kuroo. Akaashi doesn’t mind lending an ear. “Do you think of him that way?” he asks.

Kenma doesn’t answer, but his face turns red.

“Ah. Does he know…?”

“No,” Kenma says. He looks up at Akaashi, his eyes sharp. “He’s not going to, either.”

“Why not?”

For a moment, Kenma’s silent. His eyes flit to Kuroo, and to his lap, and then back to Kuroo. “I can’t risk that. He’s everything I have, and I can’t risk losing him.”

Akaashi frowns. “Kuroo doesn’t seem like the type to leave you if he didn’t want you.”

“That’s not it. Kuroo would never leave me,” Kenma says, a small smile on his face. “We’ve been through too much. He wouldn’t physically leave, but if I confessed to him, things could never be the same way before, and that…scares me.”

“But what if he accepted your feelings?” Akaashi asks.. “What if he returned them?”

“That’s even more terrifying.” Kenma looks straight at him. He doesn’t look directly at anyone often, but when he does, it’s unnerving. His eyes are wide and desperate and Akaashi can feel his fear just from looking at them. “We’re unwinds. We live day to day with no guarantee of safety when we go to sleep at night. Now is the worst time to – to fall in love.”

He drops his gaze in favor of looking at Kuroo again, his gaming device on his lap ignored.

 _I think it’s already too late,_ Akaashi wants to say.

 

**xiii. Yamaguchi Tadashi**

_(Sept. 27)_

 

One time, when Yamaguchi was in elementary school, his class took a field trip to a museum. One of his classmates got lost along the way, and they were all supposed to wait while the teacher tried to find her, but Yamaguchi was so worried for his classmate that he left the group to find her himself. Only, instead of finding her, Yamaguchi got _himself_ horribly lost, and he was left to wander through a forest of legs and pamphlets for nearly two hours until security found him and brought him back to his class.

This felt a lot like that time, only worse, because they’re in an actual forest, and there are no security guards to bring them home.

“Tsukki, tell me you know where we’re going.”

“I told you - we’re going to the Court.”

“But do you know how to get there?”

Tsukki doesn’t answer.

They’ve been walking through the hot sun for hours now, and they’ve passed this tree at least twice, and he’s pretty sure that if he ever does get unwound, the surgeons will find a pile of mush where his brain should be, melted from a combination of heat and stress.

He’s sick of the mountains. They’ve been wandering around for days. After restocking at a supermarket near the base of the mountain, they’d returned to the wilderness, to Yamaguchi’s disatisfaction. He really, really hates nature, and nature hates him right back. He’s got burns on his shoulders and face and a smattering of new freckles. His hair is greasy and grimy because he hasn’t showered in days, and he’s pretty sure his sweat has formed a second skin.  

He’s sick of eating plain rice for every meal, he’s sick of walking aimlessly all day. He’s sick of peeing in the woods - it’s even grosser than he thought it’d be. The public bathroom at the supermarket had been like a breath of fresh air.

He’s sick of being confused. Before, his path had been so clear to him. But something changed at the memoratorium, and Yamaguchi isn’t so sure what to think any more.

Apparently Tsukki isn’t either because _he has no clue what they’re doing._

Yamaguchi’s had enough. He grabs Tsukki’s arm and tugs him so they’re nearly nose to nose.

“Tsukishima Kei. Do you mean to tell me that we’ve been wandering around these woods in circles because you have no idea where we’re going?”

Tsukishima crosses his arms and pouts. “We are _not_ wandering in circles.”

“I can’t believe you!” Yamaguchi throws up his arms in frustration. “Here you are, trying to save me, but we’re lost, because you have no idea what you’re doing!”

Tsukishima drops his backpack. “I know exactly where we are,” he snaps, pulling out his computer screen. After a few taps, he shows it to Yamaguchi: it’s a map, with a blue dot in the middle of it.

“Google Maps does _not_ count, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi says, “if you have no idea where we’re supposed to go! How did you even hear about this place? How do you even know it’s real?”

Tsukishima sneers. “How do you even know we are real? What if this is all an illusion?”

Yamaguchi cries out in frustration. “You’re impossible!” he says, waving an accusing finger in Tsukishima’s face. “This isn’t a joke!”

“Yamaguchi - ”

“It’s not! But you’re treating it like one!” He throws his hands up, stepping backwards and gesturing to the goddamn trees that they just can’t escape from. “We’re running away on our own, out in the wild like, like some carefree Ghibli characters but we’re _not!_ We’re not Ghibli characters, who can just - just run away and have everything work out for them!”

“You don’t think I know that?!” Tsukishima shouts. “I know this isn’t a movie, I know I’m not the hero! I’m just trying to do what’s right!”

Yamaguchi looks at him for a good, long moment. He thinks about everything they’ve gone through so far - the hurried escape, the mountains, the way that Tsukki won’t stop trying to convince him that he’s wrong. Visiting the memoratorium - praying for Akiteru.

“This is about him, isn’t it?” he says coolly. “This is about Akiteru.”

“No, I - ”

“I know you feel guilty about it, but my life is not some _redemption arc_ for you! It’s like you think you have this duty to save me - but you _don’t!”_

Tsukki stomps up to him and grabs his arms. “That’s not what this is about. That’s never what this was about. I want to save _you_ \- ”

“Stop lying to yourse _\- aaaggghh!”_

 _Whoomf!_ A flying object slams into his side and bowls him over. His head bangs against the ground as the object falls on top of him, knocking the breath right out of him.

_What the fu -_

 

**xiv. Tanaka Ryuunosuke**

_(Sept. 27)_

 

Tanaka Ryuunosuke is a good person who has never done anything wrong in his life.

That might be an exaggeration. Okay, definitely an exaggeration. But just because he’s made some mistakes doesn’t mean he’s not a good person.

And a good person like him shouldn’t have to put up with this kind of shit.

 

_He’s sitting outside the principal’s office for the second time since starting first grade. The mean boy is next to him, but he makes a point not to look at him. The chair he’s sitting in is tall, and his feet don’t reach the floor, so he kicks them back and forth while he waits for his mom to get him._

_Finally, his mom gets out of her meeting with the principal, and kneels down in front of him. “Ryuuu! What have you done this time?” His mom looks at him with that disappointed frown, and he feels kind of bad, but mostly mad._

_“It’s not my fault!” he protests. “He stole Sayo’s toy! That’s why I punched him. He’s the mean one!” He points an accusing finger at the boy sitting next to him._

_“Nuh uh! I had it first!”_

_“Liar!”_

_“Ryuu!” his mom scolds. He lowers his head. “We do_ not _talk to our classmates that way.”_

_“But - ”_

_She grabs his hand and pulls him away. He turns around and sticks his tongue out at the mean boy while she drags him ahead._ Dumb toy-stealer.

_“Ryuu,” his mom says, her tone a little softer. She kneels down in front of him, and holds his hands in her own. “I understand you were trying to do a good thing. You were trying to give that girl back her toy, right?”_

_He nods furiously._

_“Sometimes people do mean things. But that doesn’t mean we hurt them. You have to use your words. Or else you’re no better than them.”_

_He frowns. “But I_ did _use my words. I told him to give it back! But he didn’t listen! And that’s when I punched him.”_

_His mom bites her lip, and her eyebrows knit together. “Just what are we going to do with you, my little rebel?”_

 

This was supposed to be a simple reconnaissance mission. Daichi had been very clear: follow the daily patrol as they make their loop around Mt. Taihaku Harvest Camp, trace their path, check for new gear, and stay out of trouble.

 

_“You took the Yukawa’s car for a joyride? And crashed it?!”_

_Tanaka winces, holding his phone away from his ear drum to spare him from Saeko’s roar._

_“It was for Harumi’s birthday!” Tanaka says. And what a great birthday_ that _turned out to be. He glances at the scene behind him - it’s dark out, but police and ambulance lights flash brightly, surrounding the bright red car smashed up against the railing on the side of the road. Harumi and the others are sitting on the curb, heads down, while the EMTs check to make sure they’re okay. Thankfully, they all look fine; Tanaka doesn’t know what he would do if any of them were seriously injured. “He’s always wanted to ride in a Maserati! I didn’t mean to - ”_

_“I can’t believe you!” Saeko shouts. “You could have been hurt! Or even killed! I know you’re impulsive but I thought you had more sense than this!”_

_The words sting more than the cut on his forehead, because he knows she’s right. This was exceptionally stupid, even for him. “Nee-san, please! I know it was stupid, I fucked up - ”_

_“No shit!”_

_“ - but I can’t tell Mom and Dad! If they find out, I don’t know what they’ll do…”_

_She doesn’t say anything, and all he can hear are her erratic breaths._

_“I just need you to come down and talk to the police officer.”_

_She sighs loudly, and Tanaka knows she’s caved. He pumps his fist victoriously. “You owe me for this, Ryuu.”_

_Tanaka nods, even though she can’t see him. “Fine. What do you want?”_

_“For you to stay out of trouble,” she says. “For good.”_

_She hangs up the phone, and Tanaka waits for her in the dark, her final words ringing in his ears._

 

But Tanaka had never been good at staying out of trouble.

 

_The courtroom is cold. The courtroom is quiet. The courtroom is spotlessly clean._

_Tanaka is everything this courtroom isn’t, and he wishes he were anywhere but here._

_“Do you know why you are here?” the judge asks._

_“I do.”_

_It’s his own fault, of course, but he doesn’t regret it one bit. That teacher deserved it. He was harassing girls, trying to look down their shirts and up their skirts, making lewd comments about them. When he heard from one of his friends that he touched her, Tanaka had had enough. None of the girls were going to come forward, out of fear no one would believe them. But he couldn’t let that fucker keep getting away with it, he had to do something to help those poor girls - so he beat him to a pulp._

_He was still in the hospital. Tanaka hoped he’d remain in there for a long time, far away from those girls._

_The trial is long and boring and Tanaka’s sure his fingers are going to freeze right off. He came here with a cool head, but as time progresses, he begins to panic. His lawyer said he would be fine, but now his voice shakes and he stumbles over his words and the judge’s eyes are sharp as glass._

_He glances back behind him, at his family. Saeko’s staring straight at him, concern written all over her face. Tanaka can’t look her in the eye - not after he failed her._

_He faces the front again, and listens to a disaster of a defense. The judge’s eyes grow sharper, and he feels their pressure puncturing into him._

_Tanaka knows what’s going to happen before the judge even says it._

_“Your sentence is as follows: Tanaka Ryuunosuke, by order of the court, you are to be unwound - ”_

“No!”

_Tanaka turns around to see Saeko jumping out of her seat, shouting, “No, no no - !” over and over again._

_“ ...for assault and attempted homicide. The court feels it necessary to save a such a dangerous person from themselves. Your spirit will be able to rest easier in a divided state, boy. It is for the best.”_

_His stomach drops. He feels weightless. Tanaka always has something to say, he always yells in anger and reacts violently, but now, he can’t even move. Everything’s a blur from there - cuffs around his wrists, the navy and red uniforms of the Juvey-cops, Saeko’s cries, his parents tears - as he allows himself to be dragged away for good._

 

He hears the voices before the two men on patrol do. He slips through the trees (he can be quiet when he wants to, no matter how much Daichi complains about how he never shuts up) and creeps toward the noise, careful not to alert the patrol.

As soon as he spots them, he knows immediately that they must be AWOLs, just like him. They’re the right age, they’re carrying camping supplies, they’re covered in dirt, and they stink.  

 

_Tanaka is terrified of being unwound. Ever since he came to his senses, he’s been alert, looking for an opportunity to escape. So when Karasuno comes for him, he’s ready._

_There’s two of them that help him and a few others escape from the harvest camp - one with short brown hair and another with wavy grey hair who introduce themselves as Suga and Daichi. They bring them to an old, abandoned research building, where there’s a whole camp set up._

_He finds out that’s it’s their base of operations for their organization - Karasuno - that rescues unwinds from Mt. Taihaku Harvest Camp. There’s only a few of them so far, but they’re hopeful. Tanaka thinks they’re amazing._

_“Alright men,” Daichi tells them that night, as they feast on store-bought ramen. “Now that you’re free, you can decide what to do from here. You can try to find your way on your own, or try to find a safe house. Or,” he says with a grin, “You can join us, and help us fight the people who want to tear us apart.”_

Stay out of trouble!

What are we going to do with you, my little rebel?

_Tanaka smiles. He knows exactly what his family would say if they knew what he was about to do. But it doesn’t matter, because he knows this is the right thing to do. “I want in. Let’s kick some Juvey ass!”_

 

“...feel guilty about it, but my life is not some _redemption arc_ for you! It’s like you think you have this duty to save me - but you _don’t!”_

“That’s not what this is about. That’s never what this was about! I want to save _you_ \- ”

They’re being too loud! The patrol must have heard them for sure this time.

He doesn’t bother checking behind him - he can’t take that chance, they’re already at risk and he can’t just leave them. So he barrels out of his hiding spot and leaps out at them, tackling them to the ground.

“Stop lying to yourse _\- aaaggghh!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some notes:
> 
> \- Fun fact: japan’s most popular search engine/website is actually yahoo news [x](http://www.dailymail.co.uk/sciencetech/article-2443825/Google-rules-West-Japan-prefers-Yahoo-Map-reveals-different-internet-giants-dominate-countries-globe.html) [x](http://returnonnow.com/internet-marketing-resources/2015-search-engine-market-share-by-country/) and that is why oikawa’s default screen is yahoo news (this is assuming yahoo is still in business in this future ;)  
> \- The only reason why i kept ‘state home/staho’ instead of relabeling it as some variation of ‘prefecture home’ is that any combination of ‘prefecture’ and ‘home’ sounds like shit  
> \- Ritalin is not currently an over-the-counter drug, but in this future, it is (i imagine drug regulations have become more lax in this version of the future, since any damage occurring from drug use could be easily mended)  
> \- On that note this does NOT mean that people with ADHD all need to take medication to be function. Methods of coping with ADHD vary per person, and this is a fictional, specific case - not a universal
> 
> next up: the rest of the crows that were suppose to appear in this chapter haha...


	5. Juncture (pt. 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bokuto Koutarou will only play Monopoly if he can be the shoe. Yamaguchi Tadashi knows he smells awful, trust him, he knows better than anyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO FRIENDS I AM NOT DEAD AND I DID NOT ABANDON THIS FIC
> 
> i'm so sorry this has taken so long but i started winter quarter of college and my life has been jam packed with Stuff, including my first round of midterms last week ʘ‿ʘ so i haven't had as much time as i'd like to work on this chapter, which got SUPER FUCKING LONG so i'm going to publish it in two parts
> 
> in other news, i finished rereading unwind again (for research..yes...not for personal pleasure no of course not) and like my mind is FUCKED. EVERY FUCKING TIME I READ THIS GODDAMN THING. I just realized that the Graveyard is basically a harvest camp for planes, they salvage parts to put into new planes and HMM THAT SOUNDS FAMILIAR. also i love cy-fi. what happened to him the rest of the series? Bring him back

  
**xv.** **Bokuto Koutarou**

_ (Sept. 27) _

Today’s the day they leave Nekoma.

His time here felt like an eternity squeezed into minutes. They’ve been there less than a week, yet he’s come to know Kuroo and Kenma and Akaashi so well.

The system is designed to confuse the Juvies by constantly sending AWOLs to different safe houses, scrambling them up, but Bokuto doesn’t want to leave any of them. He thought about asking them to leave with him, to try and find the Court some other way, but he can’t ask them to risk that much for him. And he doesn’t want to put Akaashi in danger again. 

Akaashi probably doesn’t want to stick with him anyways. He’s knows he’s a burden - that’s what his parents and his teachers told him. That’s why they signed his unwind order. He’s been enough of a burden on Akaashi, he shouldn’t have to deal with him any longer.

That doesn’t change Bokuto’s feelings, though. He really, really doesn’t want to leave any of them. Kuroo’s super fun to be around, he’s a great workout partner, and even if he can be a bit annoying sometimes, Bokuto knows he has a good heart. Kenma’s pretty quiet, but Bokuto likes that about him, and how he always has something to counter Kuroo’s teasing.

And then there’s Akaashi. Even though Akaashi pretends to be stand-offish, his actions show that he cares: he talks with Kenma, and he checks up on Bokuto, he saved those kids in the van when Bokuto couldn’t. Akaashi’s been so nice to him, and his presence is very calming, and Bokuto doesn’t want to say goodbye.

He thinks of their very first meeting, a week ago, in the Juvey cell. Bokuto had suggested they escape so that their introduction wouldn’t be pointless.  _ Isn’t it just as pointless if we go separate ways now?  _ he wants to say. 

“Are you guys going to stick together? When we leave tonight?” Kuroo asks.

Bokuto perks up. He’s surprised Kuroo brought it up - Bokuto hadn’t even mentioned wanting to stay together. _ How did he know?! _

“Yes!” Bokuto burst. “I mean - ” he turns to Akaashi, who’s sitting beside him, “ - if you want to…”

_ Please say yes, please say yes… _

Akaashi looks down, and scratches the back of his neck. “I don’t think they’ll let us do that, even if we want to…”

Well, it wasn’t an outright yes, but not a no either. Bokuto will take it. 

“You know, they won’t make you separate if you tell them you’re a couple, or brothers,” Kuroo tells them. “That’s how Kenma and I have stuck together – I say he’s my little brother.” He loops his arm around Kenma’s shoulders. Kenma rolls his eyes, but doesn’t pull away.

“We really can stay together?” Bokuto asks. He turns to Akaashi and smiles. Akaashi smiles back, and Bokuto feels fireworks in his chest. That means he wants to stay with Bokuto, right?

S _ ee Akaashi! Introductions weren’t pointless! We’re sticking together now! _

“I don’t know if they can pass as siblings…” Kenma says, looking Akaashi and Bokuto over. 

“One of us could be a stork,” Akaashi points out.

Kuroo smirks. “Nah, it’s probably best if you pose as a couple.”

“A - a couple?” Bokuto says. If his heart wasn’t beating loud before, it definitely is now. They were going to pretend that he and Akaashi - were  _ together?! _ Bokuto doesn’t know if he can handle that. Akaashi’s so pretty and nice and Bokuto’s - Bokuto. “Oh, um, I don’t know if people are going to believe that.”

Kuroo frowns. “Why not?”

“Well, um, Akaashi is so pretty! And calm, and nice! And I’m - well, I’m me, and I’m not nearly as pretty as Akaashi, so I don’t know if people would believe he’d want to date me - ”

A hand claps over his mouth and Bokuto seizes up. It’s Akaashi’s hand - Akaashi’s hand is touching his mouth. Bokuto feels himself go red.

“Bokuto-san, you shouldn’t say things like that,” Akaashi tells him. He’s looking at him with those bright green eyes and Bokuto’s absolutely mesmerized. “Okay?”

Bokuto feels the pressure on his mouth go away and he squeaks out an, “Okay,” even though he doesn’t really understand what Akaashi means by ‘things like that.’

It’s quiet for a moment. Akaashi scoots a little further away, and says, “We...will make a perfectly believable couple.”

Bokuto blushes. “Okay.” 

Kenma mumbles something under his breath that makes Kuroo laugh.

“What? What did he say?” Bokuto asks, looking back and forth between Kuroo and Kenma.

Kuroo snorts once more. “He said - ”

_ “Kuroo. ” _

“ - nothing you need to worry about.”

Bokuto pouts. “Why don’t I think that’s true?”

For a while, they sit around in silence. It’s finally started to hit - they only have a few more hours together. Even though Akaashi will still be by his side, Bokuto has no idea if he’ll ever see Kuroo and Kenma again after this. 

“Hey,” he says eventually. “Can we play one more game of Monopoly?”

“No.”

“No!”

“No.”

Bokuto slumps over. “Oh. It’s okay.” It’s not okay, but he doesn’t want to make his friends do something that they don’t want to do. But he also  _ really _ wants to play. “Just...what if this is our last time we can ever play Monopoly together? Don’t you want to try and beat me one more time?”

A beat of silence.

“I guess...”

“Okay.”

“...fine.”

“Yes!”

 

Their ride arrives, and their game is cut short.  

Bokuto’s only conquered half the board with his lucky shoe, and he hates to leave the game unfinished. He flings his shoe into the game box with a whine. Kuroo and Akaashi finish cleaning up in silence. 

“Are you all ready?” the Nekoma attendant asks once they’ve packed up the board. Kuroo nods. “We’re going to pull the vans around back.” The attendant leaves, and the four of them left in the room stand up.

Bokuto fidgets with the hem of his shirt. He’s knows what’s going to happen and he doesn’t want it to happen but it’s fine, it’s fine, he’s been through this before so he knows how it goes. 

He looks and Kuroo, and at Kenma, and takes a deep breath. “Goodbye - ” 

“Nope!” Kuroo interrupts. Bokuto frowns. He had to prepare himself for this moment and now Kuroo was ruining it - “No goodbyes. Only ‘see you laters’!”

Immediately, his anxiety from before is forgotten. He cocks his head. “Oh - why?”

“Because goodbyes sound so final,” Kuroo explains. “Goodbyes are endings, but this is just a new beginning.”

Bokuto sees what he’s trying to say. It’s nice of Kuroo to think that this is a beginning, but Bokuto can only see this as an ending. 

The last goodbye - the last real goodbye, had been with his parents. Only, there was nothing good about it. Juvey cops dragging him away, tranqing him before he could even say anything to them, navy and red and navy and red - 

If that goodbye was so much messier, so much more final, then why did this one hurt more?

“Kuroo is cliché like that,” Kenma murmurs. 

“It’s a cliché for a reason, you know.” Kuroo elbows him gently in the side. “Plus, I have a feelings we’re going to see each other again.” He winks at them. 

Bokuto raises his eyebrows. Did Kuroo really think they would all meet again? “Oho?” 

Kuroo smirks. “Ohoho.”

Bokuto smiles. “Ohohoho.”

“Ohohohoho - ”

_ “Stop.” _

They all turn to Kenma, who had just uttered that word, and break into giggles. It reminds Bokuto of when they first met - at the beginning, before they really got to know each other. Their introduction. If they separate now, and never see each other again, does that mean this introduction was pointless, too?

He stops laughing, and the others do, too. “I’m...I’m going to miss you guys,” Bokuto admits.

Kuroo’s brows scrunch together. “We’re going to miss you too, buddy. C’mere.” He holds out his arms and Bokuto rushes into his chest, burying his face into Kuroo’s neck. They hug for a long minute, as long as an acceptable hug is suppose to be, until Bokuto lets go and steps back.

Kuroo turns to Akaashi and holds at his arms.

Akaashi smiles, and says. “No thanks.”

“That’s cool, that’s cool,” Kuroo says. “Kenma doesn’t like hugs either. Unless they’re from me, of course.”

“Those are the worst hugs,” Kenma says. Bokuto snickers.

“I don’t know, Kenma. He gives pretty good hugs,” he says in Kuroo’s defense. 

“I feel sorry for you, if you think that’s a good hug. Kuroo squeezes too tight.”

“Do not.”

“Do too.”

They bicker back and forth while they wait, and Bokuto puts on a smile, but in the back of his mind the clock ticks down to their imminent departure.

_ Tick. _

_ Tick. _

_ Tick. _

 

Kuroo and Kenma go first. Kuroo gives him one last hug, and Kenma gives them a little wave, and then they’re gone.

As soon as the door closes behind them, Bokuto feels their absence. The room is suddenly a lot larger than it seemed before, much, much quieter, and nearly barren. After constantly being with those two for an entire week, it feels wrong without them, like they’re missing something as essential as air. 

Bokuto thumps to the floor and starts rocking back and forth. They’re gone.  _ Gone _ . It’s only been a week and they’re already gone. His rocking quickly becomes violent and he feels tears begin to drip from his eyes. Is Kuroo crying too? No, Kuroo doesn’t seem like the type to cry, but maybe Kenma is, but Bokuto doesn’t know because they’re gone, and maybe they aren’t crying for him at all because they never really cared - 

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says, and Bokuto realizes he’s on the floor next to him, patting his back. 

Bokuto tries to concentrate on Akaashi’s hand sweeping up and down his spine, he really does because it feels nice, but his thoughts keep slipping back to Kuroo and Kenma and now he can’t help but wonder if they really liked him at all, since they left him anyway - 

He knows Kuroo said it was only a ‘see you later’ but really, when was it ever a ‘see you later’? Bokuto only knows goodbyes.

“Why do all the good things have to end, Agashee?” he sniffles. 

The hand on his back stops moving. “I wish I knew, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says at a whisper. He continues rubbing his back while Bokuto reigns in his tears. 

He doesn’t know how much time passes until the Nekoma employee comes for them. It feels like hours, even though Bokuto knows it’s probably minutes. At the very least, it’s enough for him to stop crying, though the grief still weighs heavy in his stomach. 

He lets Akaashi drag him to his feet and through the doorway. Kuroo and Kenma went this way only hours - minutes - ago. Or, maybe they didn’t, maybe they took them another way, since they were being sent in a different direction anyway, and Kuroo said their goodbye wasn’t forever but what if it was? What if something went wrong and he never saw them again and - 

“Bokuto-san. We’re here.”

Akaashi’s voice pulls him out of his thoughts and he looks up.

There’s the vehicle that’s going to take them away from Nekoma, further away from Kuroo and Kenma. 

The last time he and Akaashi got into a van, it was on its way to harvest camp. Even though he knew this one wasn’t - but what if it was? Maybe Akaashi was right, maybe they couldn’t trust the people here. Maybe they were just holding them all this time so they could take them to harvest camp and collect cash.  _ Oh my god, that’s exactly it! We’re doomed, we can’t get in the van -   _

Bokuto rocks back and forth on his feet. “Akaashi what if - ”

Akaashi grabs his hand and squeezes it. “Bokuto-san,” he says. His voice is so calm. How is he so calm? They’re about to shipped to harvest camp! “We need to trust these people. They’ve helped us out so far.”

“But - ”

“Why would they take the trouble of going undercover if they’re working with the Juvies anyway?”

“Um, well...they could be parts pirates.” Bokuto’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh my god what if they’re  _ parts pirates _ \- ”

“Then why would they keep us here for this long if they were just going to turn us in anyway?” Akaashi interrupts. 

“Um…” He has a point. Bokuto tries to think of a reason why. Maybe they were waiting for their dealer to come around? Or what if - 

Akaashi squeezes his hand again, pulling him back. “We need to trust them - it’s our best option right now for survival,” he says. He runs his thumb back and forth over Bokuto’s knuckles, and Bokuto closes his eyes and focuses on the movement. “And Bokuto-san? If they really are taking us to harvest camp...we’ll find a way to escape.”

Bokuto blinks his eyes open. “We will?”

Akaashi offers a small smile, and Bokuto’s heart skips a beat, in a good way, though. “We did it before. We can do it again.”

Bokuto can’t help but smile back. Akaashi’s emotions are infectious; whenever he smiles or laughs Bokuto always feels a burst of joy, and whenever he’s cold or closed off, Bokuto feels the same. It’s that empathy that allows him to close his eyes, take a deep breath, and step into the van. 

“Finally,” the driver mumbles, shutting the door behind Akaashi as he slides inside. 

The windows are tinted black, but the driver tells them to crouch down anyways. The seats have been pulled out, so they lie down next to each other on their backs. 

Akaashi hasn’t let go of his hand. Bokuto wonders what that means. Has he forgotten? Or maybe he’s just playing the part of boyfriends already. There’s no one to watch them back here, but maybe Akaashi’s just trying to get into character. Bokuto certainly doesn’t mind.

“Hey Akaashi. Could you...do you think you could, maybe, um, do that thing you were doing before?” Bokuto whispers. 

After a moment, Akaashi whispers back, “What thing?”

“The - the thing with your thumb. You were, like, sweeping it back and forth - ”

His thumb swishes over his knuckles and Bokuto breaths in a deep sigh. 

“Like that?” Akaashi whispers, even softer than before. 

“Yeah...thanks.”

The van hitches; Bokuto tightens his grip on Akaashi’s hand. But Akaashi keeps rubbing his hand and Bokuto syncs up his breath to match the back and forth movements. He lets the tension go from his body and closes his eyes. 

They lay like that for a long time in silence. Normally Bokuto hates silence, it always feels too awkward and Bokuto has a million thoughts on his mind he can’t help but share, but right now, his mind is blank. There’s so many things to think about but Bokuto focuses solely on the movement on his hands and he forces himself to relax. 

_ The silence is nice, _ Bokuto thinks.  _ Everything with Akaashi is nice _ . Once again, Bokuto is incredibly thankful that Kuroo suggested they stick together, and to Akaashi for agreeing. He’s still sad about Kuroo and Kenma, but right now, he’s just happy to have Akaashi next to him. He can’t know what will happen next. He can only take things as the come, deal with the present and keep moving. Traveling around the safe houses - if that’s even where they’re being taken at all - will be another adventure, a completely new start for each time they move. 

“Hey Akaashi,” he asks. “Do you think...I mean, if there’s ever a chance, when we’re older or something, or maybe while we’re on the road and it somehow works out that there’s a cello, or, or bass or something, I mean it’s probably not likely but it could happen. But do you think I could, um, hear you play sometime?”

Akaashi shifts onto his side. Flashes of light illuminate his black outline, his eyes blinking in and out of view at timely intervals. But Bokuto can see enough to make out a faint smile.

“Of course, Bokuto-san. I think...that would make me very happy.”

Bokuto beams. He stares into Akaashi’s eyes, and wow they look so green and bright right now. They flicker down, and Bokuto quickly looks away. Oh god, was he staring? He was probably making Akaashi uncomfortable - 

“And Bokuto-san?”

“Yeah?”

“You might want to close your eyes...they might attract attention in the dark.”

“Oh!” Of course, duh. He had forgotten about his eyes again. 

So he closes his eyes and leans back, letting the pressure of Akaashi’s hand and the rocking of the van lull him to sleep. 

 

 

**xvi. Yamaguchi Tadashi**

_(Sept. 27)_

“Stop lying to yourse  _ \- aaaggghh!” _

_ Whoomf!  _ A flying object slams into his side and bowls him over. His head bangs against the ground as the object falls on top of him, knocking the breath right out of him. 

_ “What the fu - ” _

“SHHHH!” a voice hisses in his ear. “Or they’ll hear you!”

Confused, head still spinning from meeting the ground, Yamaguchi shuts up. His vision is obscured by a head of blonde hair - Tsukki must have been taken down, too - and there’s a knee digging into his back. 

He tries squirming, but the knee against his back presses down firmly.

“Who are - ”

“Shhh!” the voice hisses. “I’m trying to help you, okay? But you have to stay quiet.”

“Why?” Tsukki spits. 

The captor leans down and whispers close to their faces. “There’s a patrol! Don’t you know you guys are walking straight to harvest camp?”  

_ Patrol? Harvest camp? _

Suddenly Yamaguchi hears them. The shuffling of undergrowth, the pounding of footsteps, and voices.

He whines. “But - ”

“Look, you can trust me - I’m an AWOL, just like you guys,” their captor says. “The name’s Tanaka. I’m part of a rebel group, but if you guys don’t shut up right now, there’s not much even I will be able to do.” 

Part of a group that helped unwinds escape? Anti-Unwinding groups are sketchy organizations, and he’s definitely suspicious of this guy, too. How do they know he’s really part of a rebel group? He could just be saying that to gain their trust, holding them down long enough for that patrol to catch up to them and take them away.

But then, what does it matter anyway? Isn’t that his end goal, to be taken to harvest camp? He only plans to play along with Tsukki’s game until he sees an opening to end it. If this Tanaka guy is tricking them, holding them hostage instead of hiding them, then Yamaguchi should let it happen.

And if not, he only needs to wait for an opportunity. 

He lies down, pressing his face into the dirt and surrendering to the pile of limbs that holds him and Tsukki to the ground.

Tsukki shifts back and forth, banging his head into Yamaguchi’s nose. 

“Ow - ”

_ Smack! _ A hand slaps over his mouth, stifling his groan. “Shhhh!” 

“Hey - did you hear that?” The voice sounds like it’s only a few meters away. 

The knee digs deeper into his back. Even Tsukki stops fidgeting.

“Sato. You’re just being paranoid again.”

Tanaka presses low against them, nearly laying on top of them. A thick, heavy weight twists in his torso and it’s not from the pressure on his back. 

“I’m being serious! There was something over there.”

This is it. This is his chance. All he needs to do it call out - squirm out from underneath Tanaka - make some noise - and he’ll be free. Tsukki will be powerless to stop them from rescuing Yamaguchi to ensure he can fulfill his duty. This journey will come to an end. 

“Holy shit. You say this every. Fucking.  _ Time _ . But nothing’s ever there!”

There’s only one problem: Tanaka. He said he was an AWOL, and that means if they’re discovered, Tanaka will be brought to harvest camp, too. 

“But the rebels - ”

“Jesus fuck - shut up about the rebels! You think they’re hiding in the bushes, waiting to jump out at us? They’re not goddamn idiots, you  _ fuckwad _ . There’s. Nothing. There. Now c’mon, shitface.”

If Yamaguchi was the person he was on the day they started this trip, he would have called out without hesitation. It’s an AWOL’s fate to be unwound, and Yamaguchi pities those who try and thwart their destiny. Even though regular unwinds and tithes meet the same fate, they’re completely different from from each other. Tithes are respected, revered, good children, who prepared themselves to meet their fate from birth, while unwinds force their parents hand with their unruly and destructive behavior. Not the same at all. He and this Tanaka person are complete opposites.

But then he thinks of the memoratorium, of all the names of all the people who were sent to be unwound without their consent. Yamaguchi wants this, but Tanaka obviously doesn’t. Akiteru didn’t. It shouldn’t matter to him, it  _ doesn’t _ matter to him, but he when he wants to yell his throat closes up. He feels Tanaka’s desperation in his heavy breaths and clammy hands and Yamaguchi just can’t bring himself to do it. 

(And he’s not ready yet.  _ Almost _ \- but not yet.)

He holds his breath as the footsteps get quieter and quieter until there’s no sign left of the patrol. It feels like ages later when the weight on his back finally lifts; Tanaka pulls him to his feet and Yamaguchi feels a hundred times lighter. 

He finally gets a good look at their captor - saviour? - as he drags Tsukki to his feet. He’s tall, taller than Yamaguchi but not Tsukki, with a shaved head and sharp, grey eyes. He wears a muscle tank, khaki pants, and a scowl. He’s exactly how Yamaguchi imagined an unwind, an AWOL, would look. 

“Oi,” he says, eyebrow ticking in annoyance. “Don’t I get a thanks, or something?” 

Tsukki raises an unamused eyebrow. “Something?”

“I dunno, a hug?”

The look of sheer disgust on Tsukki’s face sends Yamaguchi into a fit of laughter. The mere thought of Tsukki - who’s about as affectionate as a prickly sea urchin - giving someone a hug is hilarious, but the fact that this guy, this tough, scary looking AWOL, genuinely asked him for a hug - it’s just too much.

“Why’re you laughing! Oi!” Tanaka pouts. He looks to Tsukki for explanation but Tsukki just smirks. Yamaguchi reigns in his laughter, but really? Tsukki hugging this guy? Yamaguchi would pay to see that. “Hey! I only just  _ saved _ your  _ lives!” _

Tsukki rolls his eyes. “By almost killing us first.”

“Why you punk-ass little - ”

_ Tsukki 1: Tanaka 0. _

Yamaguchi snorts loudly, and his giggles die down. “S - ha - sorry…” he manages to say. “Um. How about we just go with a thank you?”

Tanaka cracks a crooked smile. He doesn’t look as scary with that kind of smile. “You’re welcome,” he says. He looks pointedly in Tsukki’s direction.

Tsukki stares back at him.

Tanaka clears his throat. Loudly.

But Tsukki doesn’t flinch.

“Tsukki says thank you, too,” Yamaguchi supplies. He has a feeling they would be there for a long time if Tanaka wanted Tsukki to actually say thank you.

This seems to appease Tanaka. At the very least, he stops glaring at Tsukki. Instead, he glares at the bushes behind him. 

“You’re welcome, too,” Tanaka says. “Even if you can’t appreciate it.”

“I can’t,” Tsukki says. “I’m not an AWOL.”

_ Tsukki 2: Tanaka 0. _

“Wha - wait, you’re not AWOLs?!” Tanaka shouts. “But - you - why - ”

“ _ I’m _ the AWOL,” Yamaguchi says. The words feel funny in his mouth, they feel wrong and unnatural. Is he considered an AWOL? Technically he won’t be fourteen for another few months, so there isn’t really anything to be ‘absent’ from. That’s not even considering the fact that he was basically kidnapped, and didn’t leave by his own will. He’s still on the side of the law - he’s just waiting for an opportunity to get back on the right side. 

_ Then why didn’t you do anything earlier?  _

Yamaguchi quickly shuts out the thought before he can dwell on it. 

Immediately, Tanaka relaxes. “Oh. So he - ”

“I’m a rebel,” Tsukki says. “I’m helping him escape.”

Tanaka gives a teasing grin. “Oh? Well you’re doing a shit job of it, considering you were seconds away from being caught by that patrol.”

Tsukki’s lip curls. 

_ Tsukki 2: Tanaka 1. _

“Don’t seem like much of a rebel to me,” Tanaka says, eyeing Tsukki up and down.

Yamaguchi flinches. “No offense, but neither do you, really,” Yamaguchi adds. Tsukki snorts.

Tanaka looks at him appalled. “What the hell? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Yamaguchi shrugs. 

Tsukki clears his throat. “He means you look like a delinquent.”

Tanaka rolls his eyes. “Duh. AWOLs are delinquents.”

“He’s not a delinquent,” Tsukki says, pointing his thumb in Yamaguchi’s direction.

“I mean - ” Tanaka turns red, “ - not to imply anything about you! Just, most AWOLs were being unwound because they’re delinquents. Doesn’t mean you’re one, of course. Just means that it’s how rebels are supposed to look.”

Before Tsukki could give a proper retort, Yamaguchi asked, “So, what is this group you’re with anyway?”

Tanaka switches gears immediately. He puts his hands and his hips and straightens his posture. “I’m part of a group called Karasuno. We help unwinds escape from Mt. Taihaku Harvest Camp - fighting the institution directly, saving lives. We’re  _ real _ rebels.”

He’s heard about groups like this one, Anti-Unwinding organizations that fought back by stealing kids away and wreaking havoc on the system. His parents always thought they were unruly deviants, complaining about their underhanded methods and misguided intentions, and he was inclined to think that as well. Just thinking that Tanaka was part of that him nervous.

“There’s a whole bunch of us - almost all AWOLs. Most of us escaped from Mt. Taihaku, yours truly included. Man, if Suga and Daichi hadn’t gotten me out, I would’ve been done for.”

He also always thought all rebels were hardened adults. But Tanaka is a kid, just a bit older than him. And apparently most of their organization was kids - Yamaguchi almost doesn’t believe it. Somehow, the AWOLs themselves never entered into his picture of Anti-Unwinding forces. He wonders why.

Tanaka’s face softens into a fond smile. “Once they got me out I knew I wanted to work with them. Get unwinds out of the same situation I was in. That’s why I was here. I was conducting a patrol of my own. Surveying the enemy, to prepare for our next raid. Save some more souls.”

Tanaka sounds so sincere, like he really believes he’s doing good, and suddenly Yamaguchi can’t bring himself to be scared of Tanaka. He’s like Tsukki - hard exterior, but a softie on the inside. Thinking they’re doing the right thing, but misguided in their judgements.

“We didn’t ask for your life story,” Tsukki tells him. 

This time, Tanaka ignores him. He turns to Yamaguchi. “It’s getting dark out. Do you guys have a place to sleep?”

Yamaguchi points to the tent bag. 

“Oh. Ew.” Tanaka eyes the bag in disgust. “If you want, you guys could come with me back to Karasuno’s base. Spend the night indoors with, you know, air conditioning. Indoor plumbing. Good stuff like that. Oh, and a shower - you guys definitely need one.” 

Yamaguchi’s brows shoot to the sky. Go back to the base? The rebel fighter base? 

“As stupid as you guys are wandering so close to a harvest camp, you probably need some help finding your way. And a good rest.”

Yamaguchi admits Tanaka wasn’t what he expected a rebel to be, and yes he had good intentions of saving his life, but they can’t trust him. He doesn’t know what an Anti-Unwind base was like. What if they found out he was a tithe? They might not get a chance to leave, and then he’d  _ never _ be unwound. “Oh. I don’t know if - ”

“Okay.”

Yamaguchi turns around to Tsukki. “Excuse me?” 

Tsukki shrugs. “Toilets, Yamaguchi.  _ Showers _ . And sleeping indoors sounds nice. Even if the company doesn’t.” 

Yamaguchi narrows his eyes. He knows Tsukki’s thinking exactly on the same lines as him, only his motivation is different. There’s no other way Tsukki would voluntarily spend more time with Tanaka after butting heads with him for this long. 

For some reason, it makes him feel really good that Tsukki would put up with Tanaka for his sake. It shouldn’t make him this happy, but it does, and Yamaguchi doesn’t know why, so he sets aside that question for later.

He’s set a lot of questions aside for later. The day those questions finally catch up to him is going to be hell.

“...fine,” Yamaguchi says. “One night. For the air conditioning. And the toilets.”

Tsukki nods, the trace of a smile on his lips. “For the toilets,” he agrees.

Tanaka claps his hands together. “That’s a good enough reason for me. C’mon, let’s get going before the sun goes down. Or worse - before the patrol comes back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know i promised more karasuno babies twice now but THEY'RE ACTUALLY IN THE NEXT CHAPTER I SWEAR
> 
> thank you guys so much for your lovely comments!! they keep me going tbh
> 
> and i'm curious: which character is your favorite POV to read from?? tell me in the comments!!


	6. Juncture (pt. 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yamaguchi Tadashi worships indoor plumbing. Oikawa Tooru should not be given a lighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I MADE A [PLAYLIST](http://satyr-syd.tumblr.com/post/157052869294/out-of-body-a-playlist-by-satyrsyd-on-spotify) I actually made it a while ago, but I just figured out how to share it (I think) So if you like music to accompany your reading, here ya go (and if you have any suggestions of your own, lemme know ;)

**xvi. Yamaguchi Tadashi (continued)**

They follow Tanaka through the woods. While they wander through the foliage, Yamaguchi’s thoughts wander through his head.

Strangely enough, Yamaguchi never paid much attention to unwinds - regular unwinds, not tithes - until recently. Unwinds and tithes were separate concepts. The worst of the unwinds were the ones who tried to defy their fate: those who went AWOL.

As someone who had prepared all his life to be tithed, Yamaguchi never understood the fear of unwinding that was so rampant among other teens. Sure, entering a divided state was scary, but couldn’t they find comfort in knowing that they were helping people? And yeah, their lives would be taken into a completely different direction, but it wasn’t like a life filled with conflict and failure was worth living, anyway.

He wasn’t sure what to think after Akiteru was unwound. He had known Akiteru, he was as much Yamaguchi’s older brother as he was Tsukki’s, but he knew as well as anyone Akiteru had problems. His fate was unexpected, but not surprising, looking back at his history. It was hard those first few months, with Tsukki’s moping, but Yamaguchi admired Akiteru’s sacrifice, and took comfort in knowing that he had a friend in a divided state. Who knew? Maybe a part of each of them would be grafted onto a single person, and they could be with each other again.

Now there’s Tanaka. He was probably like Akiteru, whose mischief got him into too much trouble. But whereas Akiteru had been accepting of his fate, Tanaka defied it, and helped others defy it.

That makes him a bad person, right?

But Tanaka doesn’t _seem_ like a bad person. He, with his backwards logic, tried to protect them, and offered them a place to sleep, food to eat, indoor plumbing. Maybe he’s just confused.

 _Or maybe_ I’m _the confused one._

Tanaka brings them to an old building, a bland, concrete cube. Once, it might have been a blight upon the greenery of the mountains, but now nature has wrapped its arms around it. Vines grow along the sides, dirt cakes the pale concrete. Whereas it might have once stood tall and proud, now it slouches under the heavy blanket of nature. By now, it’s grown dark, and the leaves and vines and bushes are a deep green, almost black. A sign nearly hidden in the greenery reads, in fading black paint, _Taihaku Cancer Research Institute._

“This is headquarters,” Tanaka explains. “The building was abandoned a while ago, once they stopped trying to cure cancer. Now we use it as our base.”

Yamaguchi nods. He knows there were a lot of medical research facilities that were shut down once unwinding became commonplace. Why spend so much money, talent, and resources trying to cure sickness when it was easier and more practical to just replace the sick organs? There were still some illnesses and cancers that couldn’t be cured by replacing an organ, so there was still research for those, but for the large part, medical research as a practice had grown much, much smaller.

Anti-Unwinders lamented the abandonment of the other medical practices and research. Yamaguchi never understood why. Different medical procedures created unnecessary complications for doctors, and unwinding made it easier to become a doctor. More lives were saved because of unwinding - Yamaguchi read a statistic about that somewhere. Cancer, the infamous incurable disease, was less disastrous than ever before. All thanks to unwinding.

How ironic that this cancer research facility, a remnant of the past, now housed people whose mindsets were stuck in the same time period.

“C’mon, I’ll take you to meet the others,” Tanaka says.

Yamaguchi gulps. He’s a little bit terrified to meet the other rebels. He knows they’re just kids, but they’re _unwinds_ , they’re _AWOL_ unwinds, they’re _rebel_ AWOL unwinds. He tries to picture what they’ll look like, but all he can see is a crowd of Tanakas. Probably because Tanaka’s the only AWOL he’s ever met.

They walk inside, through small double doors that squeak at the hinges, and a blast of cool air engulfs them. Yamaguchi sighs at the feeling, and pauses to bask in the sheer bliss; the outdoors were so hot and sticky and he has never loved air conditioning more than in this moment.

“Um...you good there, freckles?” Tanaka asks. Yamaguchi opens his eyes to see that Tanaka and Tsukki are already several paces ahead of him.

Yamaguchi blushes. “Air conditioning?” he blurts as his excuse.

Tanaka laughs. “Wow, you guys really must’ve had it tough out there.”

Tsukki smirks. “Yamaguchi’s sensitive to the heat,” he teases.

“Are you kidding?” Yamaguchi says. “You’re the one that burns up like a lobster.”

Tsukki shrugs. “You’re the one that sounds like the air conditioner just gave him an orgasm.”

Red floods his face, and Tanaka bursts out laughing. He pounds Tsukki on the back, belting out, “Good one Tsukki!”

Tsukki looks so affronted that Yamaguchi can’t help but start laughing, too. He’s pretty sure Tsukki’s eyebrows have never risen that high in his life.

Suddenly footsteps come pounding down the hallway. They must have been too loud, someone here must have heard them, and now they were coming to beat them up because they weren’t expecting guests, oh god Tanaka didn’t have a way to tell them yet, what if they thought they were the enemy, AWOLs are known for having no reservations -

Before Yamaguchi can even say anything, the footsteps stop. An orange puff of hair pokes around the end of the hallway and gasps.

“Whoa! More AWOLs!”

A kid with puffy orange hair pops out from behind the hallway and dashes up towards them. He looks back and forth at all of them, like an excited puppy.

“Whoa! Glasses! That’s so retro! Tanaka-senpai did you rescue them from camp?! Holy crap, two at once, that’s amazing!” he yells, looking at Tanaka with stars in his eyes.

Tanaka laughs and flexes his bicep. “Well, I can’t say it was easy, but - ”

“He didn’t rescue us from harvest camp,” Tsukki interrupts, fingering his glasses. Yamaguchi snickers.

“Oi, Tsukki!” Tanaka whines.

“ _Don’t_ call me that.”

“Wait, then who are they?” The orange haired kid cocks his head and looks at them curiously.

“Well - ”

“HINATAAAAA!”

The yell comes from further down the hallway, followed by pounding footsteps. The orange haired boy – Hinata, probably, considering his reaction – shrinks behind Tanaka.

A black haired boy comes bolting down the hallway, heading straight for them. The scowl on his face might have frightened Yamaguchi if he wasn’t so used to seeing the look on Tsukki’s face.

He stops in front of them, completely ignoring Tsukki and him, and points an accusing finger at Hinata.

“You can’t just bolt off in the middle of weapons training!” he shouts.

_Weapons training?_

“I heard new voices!” Hinata whines.

“But - ”

“It’s alright, Kageyama,” Tanaka says, stepping closer between the black haired boy - Kageyama - and Hinata, who still clutches the back of Tanaka’s shirt. “It’s almost time for dinner anyway.”

Kageyama grunts in annoyance, but backs off.

“Good! I didn’t have to call Daichi this time. I think that means your relationship is getting better,” Tanaka says. “C’mon, let’s get something in the kitchen. You two - ” He points to Hinata and Kageyama. Both of them immediately straighten up and snap their arms to their sides, “ - go get the others. Introductions are in order.”

The two boys nod and run down the hallways, racing as they go.

Yamaguchi bites his lip. He wonders what their role is here. They couldn’t be much older than him. They had mentioned weapons training, so...did the AWOLs recruit minors to do their dirty work? That seemed underhanded, even for troubled teens, but Yamaguchi doesn’t really know them. He wouldn’t put anything past them.

Tanaka sighs and puts his hands on his hips. “Those kids,” he says, shaking his head, as if he were decades older than them. Yamaguchi sees Tsukki’s eye twitch. “You’d never think they were only rescued months ago.”

Yamaguchi frowns. _Rescued?_ “Wait, they’re - ”

“AWOLs. Just like you,” Tanaka says.

They didn’t look anything like Yamaguchi thought they would. They were just - just kids. Like him. Sure, he wouldn’t put anything past them, since he didn’t know them...but they were still kids.

Tanaka leads them through empty hallways, their footsteps echoing off the tiled ground. He brings them into a room that’s painted bright orange. Lab sinks line the walls, but shoved on the side of them is an oven and stove that looks very much out of place. Numerous dirty dishes and chopsticks line the counter, and food scraps dot the floor and the tables.

A man stands at the stove, hovering over a pot with steam flowing over it.

“Hey, Asahi-san, we’ve got guests!” Tanaka greets.

Asahi jumps, nearly dropping his large stirring spoon. Yamaguchi almost takes a step back - _this_ is what an AWOL is suppose to look like. Long hair slipping out of its tie, and unshaven goatee, big and burly. But judging by the look on his face, he’s more terrified of them than Yamaguchi is of him. He’s also wearing a frilly pink apron, and Yamaguchi doesn’t think he could ever find anyone wearing a frilly pink apron scary.

“G-guests? Oh, um.” He puts down his spoon, wipes his hands on his apron, and holds out his hand for Yamaguchi to shake. “Ah, hello - I’m Asahi. Nice to meet you.”

“Yamaguchi,” he says. “Nice to meet you, too?”

He holds out a hand to Tsukki, but Tsukki just stares at it.

“That’s Tsukishima,” Yamaguchi offers.

“Oh. Okay.” Asahi withdraws his hand and scratches the back of his neck. Then he turns to Tanaka and asks worriedly, “Tanaka, you didn’t go by yourself - ”

“Hell no! Why does everyone think that? I may be stupid, but I’m not suicidal! Like I’m ever going to risk going back to that place. And if I attempted a rescue mission on my own, Daichi would have my head before the unwinding doctors could saw it off of me.”

Asahi winces. “That’s probably true. But then, why…?”

Tanaka beefs out his chest and proudly declares, “I saved these two from being picked up by patrol. They were walking straight towards camp, can believe that?”

“Oh my gosh,” Asahi says. He turns to them. “You two should be more careful.”

Yamaguchi just nods. “Yeah, we were lucky that Tanaka was there,” he says, barely hiding his sarcasm.

Tsukki elbows him, and gives him a look _._

Yamaguchi just smiles.

“Asahi’s our cook and engineer. He makes a mean tonkotsu ramen. He’s also the one who installed the stove, and got the air conditioning running,” Tanaka explains, beaming at him proudly. Asahi scratches his beard sheepishly, like he’s embarrassed.

Yamaguchi wonders why he was being unwound. Unwinds weren’t supposed to be skilled, yet Asahi must know a lot about engineering if he could install air conditioning. Apart from tithes, unwinding was meant for the useless, not those who had marketable skills.

“And you’re an AWOL, too?” Yamaguchi asks.

Asahi nods.

This man, this terrifying beast of a man, cooks ramen and fixes air conditioning. He wears a pink apron, and his smile is the most warm and genuine Yamaguchi’s ever seen. He doesn’t fit the model of an AWOL Yamaguchi has in mind – none of them do.

Just then, two other people enter the room. One has cropped black hair, the other wavy grey hair. The former wears a frown, and the latter, a smile.

The one with grey hair comes up to them and takes their hands and shakes them without hesitation. “Hello, I’m Sugawara, but you can call me Suga,” he says.

“I’m Yamaguchi, and this is Tsukishima,” Yamaguchi says again.

“Glad to have you with us,” Suga says. He steps back to join the frowning man, whose glare is trained on Tanaka.

“What did you do?” he asks him.

Suga clears his throat and elbows the man in the side. “ _Ow!_ Suga – ”

“Daichi, is that any way to greet our guests?” Suga asks sweetly.

Rubbing the side of his torso where Suga elbowed him, he turns to Yamaguchi and Tsukki and holds his hand out with a smile. “Sorry, I’m Sawamura Daichi. Everyone calls me Daichi. I’m in charge of all the hooligans around here, including this one,” Daichi glares pointedly at Tanaka, who visibly gulps, “who was supposed to be on patrol.”

Tanaka holds up his hands in surrender. “I have an explanation, I promise – ”

“It better be a good one,” Daichi warns. He drags Tanaka away by the elbow, and Tanaka leaves without protest.

“Good luck,” Asahi calls out as they leave the room.

Suga turns back to them. “Don’t worry, he’s not as scary as he looks. He only pretends to be mean and intimidating. He’s actually a total softie.”

“Oh…” Yamaguchi frowns. “So, um, what was that about?”

Suga shrugs. “We aren’t really supposed to bring people here without Daichi’s permission. Even if they’re AWOLs. They like to do a proper background check before letting anyone in, usually. There’s spies out there, and Daichi’s pretty paranoid.”

Asahi scoffs. “ _You’re_ saying that?”

Suga purses his lips. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Asahi smiles at him teasingly. “You’re more paranoid than the rest of us combined.”

Suga smacks his arm, eliciting a high-pitched yelp. “I’m _cautious_ , not _paranoid_.”

If they were already paranoid, maybe this was his chance. Yamaguchi says, “Oh, if it’s too much trouble, we can just leave - ”

“That won’t be necessary.” Suga turns back to them with a smile. “We don’t think you’re spies – you’re not nearly discreet enough. Daichi will let you stay.”

Yamaguchi swallows. He feels...conflicted. One part of him wants to run away from all of this, from the AWOLs and rebel fighters, but another part wants to stay and find out more about them. He can’t even fathom that all the boys that he met were AWOLs, let alone rebel fighters.

“…but first, I’ve got a couple of questions for Tanaka,” Suga says. He walks out of the room, calling behind him, “Nice meeting you two! See you soon for dinner.”

“Um. Bye?” Yamaguchi calls after him, but Suga’s already gone.

Now it’s just him, Tsukki, and Asahi left. Yamaguchi isn’t sure what to do now that he’s stuck here, so he offers to help Asahi cook.

“Actually, would you mind, um, helping with - ” Asahi points to a stack of clean dishes beside the sink.

“Setting the table? Sure,” Yamaguchi says.

He hears a sigh from behind him. He turns around to see Tsukki glaring at him. “Do we have to?”

Asahi starts, “No - ”

“Yes.” Yamaguchi asserts. “Or I’ll make you carry the tent bag tomorrow.” Tsukki raises his eyebrows. _Oh yes I dare._ If Tsukki demanded they spend the night here, then he was going to earn his keep.

“..fine,” he assents. Yamaguchi smiles and hands him half the stack of plates.

Twenty minutes later, everyone he’s met so far is seated around a metal table that he and Tsukki set. Yamaguchi’s sitting between Hinata and Tsukki. On Tsukki’s other side is Tanaka, which the former doesn’t seem too happy about.

A few others joined them: a short, fiery boy named Nishinoya, who’s currently fighting Tanaka over the last helping of ramen, and a pretty, quiet girl named Kiyoko who sits at the head of the table discussing something quietly with Suga.

As soon as Kiyoko had approached the table, Tanaka had announced, “No one touches her!” and eyed Yamaguchi and Tsukki suspiciously. But Kiyoko had ignored him, and Yamaguchi got the feeling that this wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. Still, he made sure to avoid looking at Kiyoko so as not to incur Tanaka’s wrath.

Dinner consists of more talking than eating, unfortunately. Yamaguchi’s really enjoying his ramen, which is every bit as good as Tanaka promised it would be. He hasn’t had a meal this good in weeks, and his stomach thanks him for it.

“So...what’s your story?” Nishinoya leans over Tanaka’s plate to ask Yamaguchi.

“Our story?”

“Y’know - your _story_ ,” Tanaka says, attempting to clarify. At Yamaguchi’s look of confusion, he explains further. “Every unwind has a story.”

“Oh. Our story.”

He looks around the table, to see eight pairs of eyes looking back at him - not everyone seems enthusiastic about their arrival, but all of them are curious about their story.

 _Every unwind has a story._ What does Tanaka mean by that? He knows _the_ unwinding story, everyone does: troubled kid gets in too much trouble, and the kid’s parents unwind them before they hurt themselves or others. It’s a universal story, right?

Before Yamaguchi can think of anything to say, Tsukki speaks for him.

“My brother was a rebel fighter,” he says, staring at his plate. “He had knowledge that Yamaguchi’s parents signed the unwinding order, so he sent me to escort Yamaguchi to safety.”

Yamaguchi doesn’t know why he lies, but it’s no use to contradict him now, so he goes along with it. It’s not like he’s dying to tell the others he’s a tithe.

Funny. The green clothing on his back used to introduce him as a tithe before he could even say hello, and now he’s completely hiding that part of himself. That part of him was - _is_ \- so ingrained in his identity, that he feels incomplete without it. He picks at the red sleeves of the shirt Tsukki lent to him. The shirt is more of a lie than anything Tsukki said, because when he wears this, Yamaguchi’s lying to himself, too.

“You mean the Court, right?” Daichi asks.

Tsukki nods.

“Then why didn’t you just send him through the safe houses?”

Tsukki doesn’t have an answer for that one. Yamaguchi takes the lead and says, “I didn’t want to go through the safe houses. I was...scared. Tsukki’s my best friend, so he offered to take me straight to the Court.”

“Whoa!” Hinata practically leaps out of his seat. “You know where the Court is?”

Yamaguchi winces. “Actually - ”

“We got lost,” Tsukki interjects. “I...forgot the directions.” Tsukki forces the words out of his mouth. It reminds Yamaguchi of their discussion earlier today. Yamaguchi thanks whatever forces provide balance to the universe for finally making Tsukki admit that they were lost.

“Oh! Oh oh! I can help!” Hinata exclaims. “I know where the Court is! I just came from there!”

“Really?” Yamaguchi asks.

“Yeah!”

“I thought everyone here was rescued from Taihaku…”

“Oh, I was!” Hinata nods his head. “But that was afterwards! After I ran away when my parents decided to unwind me. They said I was too ran - ram - ”

“Rambunctious,” Suga offers.

“That!” Hinata continues on. He plays with his food as he talks, sounding less and less excited than before. “And that my brain didn’t work like it should and I looked uncomfortable in my own skin. They thought that there was something wrong with me - that I was like that because I was meant to be unwound. They thought if I were unwound...it would give me peace. But I was scared to be unwound, because then I wouldn’t be able to see my parents or my sister again! So...I had to run away. I found the safe houses, and made it to the Court, but. It really hurt to leave Natsu, but I wouldn’t be able see her again if they unwound me.”

“So this dumbass ran back to his sister and got caught,” Kageyama says.

Hinata whips around and yells at Kageyama, “I had to see her again! You wouldn’t understand!”

_“Hey.”_

Everyone turns to the low, threatening voice at the end of the table. Even though there’s a smile on his face, his tone screams murder. Kageyama and Hinata are mortified. Daichi glares at them. “Calm down. We have guests.”

They both nod vigorously. Hinata refills his plates, and stuff his mouth with more food. Kageyama just sits there with his arms crossed.

Nishinoya leans over to them again and stage whispers, “Do you want to know the funniest part? Kageyama’s the one who rescued Hinata.”

Yamaguchi tries to reign in his surprise. He turns to Kageyama. “Did you?”

Kageyama grunts in affirmative. “Seems like this dumbass doesn’t appreciate it, by the way he keeps trying to get himself killed.”

Hinata makes to yell back, but he catches Daichi’s eye, and turns back to his food.

“Kageyama was training to be a Junior Juvey,” Tanaka tells them. “When we got him out of harvest camp, he was ready to fight. Knew more about weapons than all of us combined, and had inside information.”

Yamaguchi frowns. A Junior Juvey? He’d heard the Juvies were recruiting younger and younger, but those recruits came from certain kinds of families. Upper-class, wealthy, educated, well-behaved. The kind that never unwound their kids, because they didn’t have to.

“What happened?” Yamaguchi can’t help but ask.

They watch as Kageyama stares daggers into his plate. Finally, he says, “I was at a training camp over for the summer. For the Junior Juvies. While I was there, my...my mother died.”

“I’m sorry,” Yamaguchi says.

Kageyama goes on like he didn’t hear him. “Custody went to my aunt, but she didn’t want me. They...took me out of training and brought me straight to Mt. Taihoko.”

“Taihaku,” Kiyoko corrects.

“...yeah, that.”

Suga clears his throat. “But we got him out.” He laughs. “We didn’t even get back to base before he was asking to join us.”

“Sounds like you have a vendetta against the Juvies,” Tsukki remarks.

Kageyama looks up and glares at him. Yamaguchi swallows; he’s glad he’s not on the receiving end of that glare. “Something like that.”

From Kageyama, they move on to Nishinoya and Asahi, then Kiyoko, and then Tanaka. Turns out he has a sister, just like Hinata, who he regretted leaving behind.

“Her name’s Saeko. Tanaka Saeko,” he says. He sounds vulnerable when he says it, and Noya pats his back to comfort him. “She’s annoying as hell, but she always had my back.”

As he hears more and more stories, Yamaguchi begins to understand what Tanaka meant earlier. Each of their stories was unique. And none of them followed the pattern Yamaguchi thought they would. Hinata was unwound because his parents thought he’d be happier that way. Kageyama was unwound because his aunt couldn’t afford to take him in. Tanaka was just trying to protect people, Kiyoko because of an injury, Asahi and Noya because they were trying to protect each other. Maybe some of them fit the delinquent type, but that was only a small part of what got them to this point.

By the end of the meal, they’re only missing two stories - Suga and Daichi’s. He wants to ask, to know more about the two who founded this group of misfits, but it’s not his place to ask more of them. Plus he’s tired. His limbs ache and his eyes droop and he wants nothing more than to shower and go to bed -

“Would you two like to shower?”

Yamaguchi’s eyes shoot open. He stares at Daichi like he’s offered him the Holy Grail.

“Yes!” Yamaguchi squeaks. He immediately covers his mouth; he didn’t mean to sound so desperate.

Daichi laughs. “I take it you two haven’t had a proper shower in a while?”

They shake their heads.

Daichi claps a hand on his shoulder. “Then spend as much time as you need in there. Follow me, I’ll take you there.”

After muttering a quick but heartfelt thank you to Asahi for the meal, Yamaguchi pulls Tsukki with him behind Daichi, on their way to cleanliness.

The shower is every bit as amazing as Yamaguchi hoped it would be. Satiated and clean, Yamaguchi goes straight to bed. He feels more like himself than he has in a week, even though he’s not wearing his tithing greens. The room they sleep in is so dark, though, that he can pretend his clothes are any color he wants.

He’s not sure he wants them to be green.

But he’s asleep before he can think too much about it.

_The hospital is white. Everywhere he looks - white. Until he looks down at himself and sees green green green._

_“Hello…?” he calls out, and even though the voice is his, it’s not him who spoke. The word echoes far away from him, beyond the white plane. Yamaguchi gulps, but the familiar feeling of spit doesn’t slide down his throat._

_“Yamaguchi Tadashi.”_

_There’s an old man in front of him, and he’s missing his eyes._

_“Yamaguchi...why can’t you save me...you made a promise to save me…”_

_He yells but the sound is lost in the white noise. He tries to back away from the man but he comes closer, closer, closer -_

_“Yamaguchi Tadashi.”_

_He spins around. There’s a little girl, tugging at his pant leg, the green bleeding into her palms. Palm. She’s missing an arm._

_“Yama Nii-chan - you said you’d help us! I need your help!”_

_Fat tears drip from her eyes and splash onto the ground. The girl tugs and tugs and tugs -_

_“Yamaguchi.”_

_“Tadashi.”_

_“Yama-san!”_

_“Tadashi!”_

_The voices crowd his ears and there are faces - faces everywhere. Faces missing eyes and noses and teeth and ears, faces bleeding from the mouth and eyes, faces with skin peeled back, faces that aren’t even there at all. They cry and they scream and they urge him to help, they pull on his clothes and his conscious and -_

_Tadashi can save them. He can save them all, he knows he can, he knows he’s supposed to, he promised them a long time ago that he would._

_But his hands don’t listen to his head. They rip off the greens and the clothes melt off in a goopy pile of green and a heavy weight is gone from him but his feet are stuck to the ground._

_He looks up._

_The faces disappear. They voices stop._

_It’s never been quieter in his life._

 

_(Sept. 28)_

Yamaguchi sits up with a start. He’s panting and sweating and it’s dark, but right now the darkness is a comfort. A contrast to the white light of his dream.

He looks beside him and sees Tsukki sleeping peacefully. His eyes are closed, and without his glasses, his face looks less severe. For a moment, he watches the rise and fall of Tsukki’s blanket, matching his breathing pattern to Tsukki’s. Then he stands up and tiptoes out of the room.

The Karasuno crew had given them a small room at the edge of the building to sleep in, and told them they were free to keep the room for as long as they liked, even though Yamaguchi insisted they were only staying the night.

He walks through the hallways. There are no windows, but Yamaguchi prefers it that way. He walks down the hallway, running his hand along the right-hand wall, and wills his heartbeat to slow. Wills the dream away. He makes loud footsteps to forget the silence from the end of the dream. The silence that indicated those face - those people - had not survived.

Up ahead, a light peaks out from under a door. Curiosity gets the better of him, and Yamaguchi slowly pushes it open.

This room is just like his, small and empty but for a futon and small table, only there’s a vast window stretching across the far wall. A person sits on a chair, looking out at the scene from the window.

The view of Mt. Taihaku from here is magnificent. The sky is a deep blue that fades to black, but the horizon is dyed in a band of orange, no doubt in anticipation of the sun showing its face. It outlines the forest in a pale orange glow, except for Mt. Taihaku. The mountain stands like a blister on the beautiful scene, still shaded in black. Apparently, the harvest camp sits at the base of the mountain, but Yamaguchi can’t see it from here. It must be hidden among the shadows.

“You can come in, if you like.”

Yamaguchi jumps at the voice. The person in the chair turns around and smiles. It’s Suga. “Trust me,” he says, his voice as calm as the quiet morning. “The view is better from up here.”

Not wanting to seem rude, Yamaguchi walks inside and sits on the floor next to Suga. “It’s very beautiful.”

“I hate it.”

Yamaguchi looks up at Suga, to see if he’s joking. But his expression is dead serious.

Yamaguchi would ask him to elaborate, but he doesn’t think he needs to. Suga’s Anti-Unwinding, and has been pulling unwinds out of the camp under the mountain for who knows how long. His friends are AWOLs, who were almost taken out of his life thanks to that harvest camp.

Yamaguchi wonders, not for the first time, what Tsukki’s life would be like - will be like - after his tithing. He remembers what Tsukki said, when they first started this journey - was that only a week ago? - _If you’re unwound...I’ll never get to see you again. If you care about me as much as I think you do...you won’t do that to me._

It hurts knowing he’ll have to leave him, but in the end, it’s a simple matter of choice. Tsukki, or the faces in his dream. It shouldn’t be a hard decision to make.

Suga hums, drawing Yamaguchi’s attention. “You don’t strike me as the AWOL type,” he says.

Yamaguchi looks away. “N-neither do you.”

Suga laughs. “Fair enough. I am an AWOL, though.” He sighs, and claspes his hands together. His gaze doesn’t leave the mountain. “I meant that you don’t seem like us. You’re traveling through the mountains instead of the safe houses. Your friend claims he has a brother who told you the way to the Court, but you were heading straight for harvest camp.”

Yamaguchi fidgets. Suga had him pinned. “...we’re lost?” he tries.

Suga smiles knowingly. “You said. But there’s something you didn’t say, isn’t there?”

There’s something about Suga that makes him want to tell him everything, about being a tithe and about Tsukki kidnapping him and about the dream. But he can’t – if he starts talking, who knows how much will come out? If he starts talking, the questions will rise to the surface and come flooding out, he knows it, and he doesn’t want to face that right now. He doesn’t _ever_ want to have to face it. So he clamps his jaw shut to keep from saying anything.

“How about I tell you something about me first?” Suga prompts. “Then if you have anything you want to say, you can tell me. But you don’t need to, if you don’t want to.”

“O-okay,” Yamaguchi says. He can’t deny he’s curious to hear more about Suga.

Suga takes a deep breath, and, without drawing his gaze away from the mountain, begins.

“On my sixteenth birthday, a little over a year ago, I had an accident.”

Yamaguchi leans in closer.

“Daichi and I were riding our bicycles that night. We were…good friends long before all of this,” he gestures to the building, to Karasuno, “started. He wanted to take me somewhere special, at midnight on my birthday. I - never found out where he wanted to take me. As we rounded a sharp corner - _blam!_ A drunk driver comes out of nowhere and hits me straight on.”

Yamaguchi imagines the scene and winces.

Suga sighs. “We weren’t wearing helmets, of course. We wouldn’t be here if we were. The back of my head was hit, and _snap!_ \- my spine cracked in two, and I slipped into a coma. It took three months of doctors trying and failing to bring me back to life for my parents to sign the unwind order.”

Yamaguchi frowns. “Can’t the doctors do something about that? Isn’t there parts they can use?”

Suga smiles grimly. “Not every medical case can be solved with an unwind’s parts. Ask someone with depression, or anxiety.”

Yamaguchi never thought about that before. Mental illness - in many cases, it couldn’t be cured unless the part you were replacing was an entire brain. Yamaguchi had never really thought about it before, because it never affected him.  

“Anyways, my parents thought I would rather have my parts used for good than have to pull the plug and cremated, so the unwind order was signed. But, just as I was about to be shipped off to harvest camp, I woke up.”

Yamaguchi gasps.

“Yup. It’s all a bit fuzzy, because I wasn’t awake for long…”

Suga trails off, his mouth hanging open. Yamaguchi waits for him to continue, but Suga looks completely zoned out. He’s facing the mountain, but his eyes are blank.

“Suga-san?”

Suga blinks and continues like the pause had never happened. “I remember seeing my parents. My mom was pleading with them not to take me - I was conscious again, I didn’t need to be unwound, they didn’t want me to be unwound - but as I’m sure you’re aware, the unwind order is a binding contract.”

Yamaguchi’s stomach plummets; everyone knows the nature of the triplicate papers. “Once it’s signed, you can’t take it back.”

“Exactly. Even though my parents didn’t want it, the Juvies took me away to Mt. Taihaku Harvest Camp.” Yamaguchi joins Suga in looking out at the horizon, at the black mountain. “That should have been the end for me - but I wasn’t giving up that easily.”

“You...escaped?”

Suga nods, a tiny smile escaping him. “They say no one escapes from harvest camp, but it’s not impossible to slip through the cracks. I did it. And once I got out, I found Daichi. I had to tell him I was alive.” His smile widens. “He cried like a baby when he saw me again.”

Yamaguchi can’t imagine Daichi shedding a single tear, let alone bawling, but he takes Suga’s word for it.

“He was the one who found this place. Who suggested we start Karasuno. I couldn’t go back home, and I didn’t want to leave him, so...this was the next best thing. And this way, we could fight back. Save people like me who fell victim to the system. I had escaped once, why not help another out?”

“Or six.”

Suga laughs. “Or six,” he echoes. Yamaguchi think he’s done, but Suga keeps talking. He sounds even more disillusioned than before. “Even though we do what we do, even though we’ve built our community, as small as it is...I still feel like there’s something missing. Like I’m incomplete, or, or there’s something wrong with me. I’ve had that feeling ever since I escaped from the mountain.”

His eyes narrow, glaring at the black lump in the distance. “The mountain stole something from me. I don’t know what it is, but I’m going to get it back.”

Yamaguchi thought Daichi was the scarier of the two, but now he’s questioning that judgment. He would not want to be on the receiving end of Suga’s anger.

But everything Suga said…it’s quite a story. It makes him wonder about the finality of the unwinding contract, that white-yellow-pink triplicate. Was it fair that it was binding? Suga’s case would have been solved if his parents were allowed to revoke their signatures. Was that part of the system really necessary? There must be mistakes that happen; people changed their minds all the time. Were there parents of tithes that changed their minds about tithing their children?

Suga leans back in his chair. “Your turn. If you’re still up to it. But...it looks like you need someone to talk to.”

Yamaguchi sighs. He knows Suga’s right, but he can’t tell him, he can’t, he’s so confused right now - Suga’s story did _not_ help with that - because everything he thought he knew was a lie, but it’s not everything, really, but it’s enough to make him question his whole life, and it’s not like this is something he could talk to Tsukki about.

Yet after Suga shared his story with him, Yamaguchi feels he needs to give something back, even if it’s not the full story.

“I’m actually a tithe.”

Suga finally tears his gaze away from the window and looks at him. “Ah.”

Words are spilling about before he knows it. “I thought I wanted to be tithed, but Tsukki’s trying to convince me not to go through with it, and he’s doing a better job than I thought he would…I just don’t know what to do anymore. I don’t know what to think anymore.”

Everything about AWOLs and unwinds was wrong, and maybe he was wrong about Akiteru, too, and Tsukki – Tsukki…

“It was his birthday, yesterday,” he says. “I just remembered. September twenty-seventh. We missed it. I haven’t missed his birthday in five years…”

Just another mistake to add to the every-growing list of mistakes on this trip.

Suga slides down from his chair and joins him on the ground. Suga takes Yamaguchi’s hands in his, and Yamaguchi feels the weight in his gut return at full force.

“Yamaguchi,” Suga says. “Think about what you want. Not what your parents want. Not what society wants. Not even what Tsukki wants. Your life is your own, and you don’t owe anybody anything.”

Yamaguchi lets Suga’s words roll over in his head. They sit there in silence long enough for the sun to finally pop up from the horizon. It bathes the entire forest in yellow, yet the mountain still seems darker than the rest.

“But I don’t _know_ what I want,” Yamaguchi finally says. The weight tumbles around in his stomach and he feels his lips tremble but he can’t cry, not right now. He takes a deep breath to settle himself, focusing on the feeling of Suga’s hands around his. “I _thought_ I knew, but now I’m not sure. I don’t even know what the hell to think anymore! Everything I thought I knew…I was wrong about a lot of things, and I don’t know if that means I have to change the way I think or if I can still think the same way… God, I’m just _sick_ of all these questions. I’m sick of being confused, and, and being led around by everyone else’s ideas. I’m so tired of not understanding.”

“Yamaguchi, that’s normal – ”

“No, it’s not!” Yamaguchi interrupts. He laughs humorlessly because Suga doesn’t get it, does he? “It’s normal to pick a side, to know right from wrong. But now – you’re all trying to flip flop it on me – and guess I don’t even have a moral compass because I can’t find north! I feel bad for you guys, really, I do, but unwinding is a good thing. It’s a good thing…”

“Is it?”

Yamaguchi grits his teeth together. _I don’t know._ It’s not a good thing to unwind people without their consent, even if they’re just kids. But does that make tithing bad? It can’t, because Yamaguchi wants to be unwound. He’s consenting, this is his choice, he _knows_ the consequences –

_When did you get to decide anything? You’ve been fed bullshit your entire life._

Tsukki’s words from his very first night on the run come back to him. Yamaguchi has always pushed away Tsukki’s claims like this, because why would his parents lie to him? They loved him, right? Society was on their side, and how could nearly all of society be wrong? He pushed everything away, but he’s tucked all of his questions in a deep pocket and he’s afraid it’s going to burst.

Suga squeezes his hand, and says, “I hope you stay whole.”

Yamaguchi doesn’t respond. What’s he supposed to say, _Not really my plan, but hey, I’ll think about it, because the previous statement is a lie, I actually don’t have a plan at all_?

“I think we should get going. Are you still planning on leaving today?” Suga asks.

Yamaguchi nods. He doesn’t know what direction they’ll go, but he knows he can’t stay here, no matter what the others have offered. He needs to make a decision, he needs more time to think things over, and he can’t do it here.

Hell, he can’t do it anywhere. But if he stays in this place another moment longer, his head is going to explode.

He wishes he could say talking with Suga helped him, he really does. But Yamaguchi’s pretty sure it only made things worse.

 

Hinata offers to personally guide them to the Court, but Kageyama objects, claiming Hinata doesn’t have enough experience and risks getting himself caught. Again. Hinata protests against him, but Yamaguchi thinks it’s kind of cute. He’s looking out for Hinata, in his own way.

Instead, Hinata draws them a map to follow, on a piece of paper. They have a lot of paper around here, which Yamaguchi finds strange. Apparently it’s left over from the research. Plus Daichi says it’s an important way to keep information secure. “Paper burns easier than hard drives,” he’d said.

Everyone comes to see them off. It’s strange to leave the little family so quickly, after coming to know them so intimately in one night. Everyone wishes them good luck, and Tanaka even gives them a tearful hug (much to Tsukki’s disdain), and then they see them out the door and on their way.

The tent bag feels heavier than ever in Yamaguchi’s grip. He sighs. Back to the same old stuff - no toilets, no showers, no air conditioning.

The mountain behind them, the forest in front, they begin to head south.

It takes Yamaguchi until sunset to speak up.

“We missed your birthday yesterday,” Yamaguchi remarks.

Tsukki hums in agreement.

“You’re fourteen now.”

“Wonderful. Now the government can hack me to pieces with just my parent’s signature.”

Yamaguchi bites his lip. His words hurt more than Yamaguchi would like; he can’t help but think of Suga.

 _Think about what_ you _want._ Those were Suga’s words. Out of all the voices bouncing around in his head, spouting different ideas and opinions, this is the one that scares him the most. But it’s the one that shouts the loudest.

He grabs Tsukki’s hand and pulls him towards him. He leans in and plants a kiss on his cheek.

“Happy birthday, Tsukki,” he whispers.

He turns away before he can see Tsukki’s reaction, and walks a few paces ahead, ignoring the burn of his cheeks. He doesn’t want to know what his best friend thinks, or what this means. He doesn’t need to question it. He just wanted to do it, so he did.

He’s found his resolve. He knows what he needs to do, he knows what he wants.

He wants the questions to stop.

And he knows exactly how to make that happen.

 

**xvii. Oikawa Tooru**

  _(Sept. 29)_

 

That’s it - Oikawa can’t wait anymore.

He’s been patient all week, pretending to be a good boy, waiting for an opportunity to come so he can leave. But while he’s here playing his part, Iwaizumi is that much closer to being unwound. He doesn’t know when Iwaizumi will be unwound. Do they do it immediately? Or do they wait a few weeks? Months? Oikawa doesn’t know. No one knows what goes on behind the harvest camp’s doors. All he knows is that with each passing minute, Iwaizumi gets further and further away from him.

And Oikawa gets more and more impatient.

_Fuck it. I’ll make my own opportunity._

He has to work carefully around the house’s security system. The alarm goes off if anyone tries to break in...and also when anyone tries to break out. Only his parents know the passcode to disable it. Normally that setting was off, but his mother had turned it on the moment he got home, and kept it on since. She knew him too well; he pretended to mope and give up hope and she pretended she believed him. They both saw past the other’s bullshit but kept up the facade anyways. Like mother, like son.

The security system is an obstacle, yet it is no match for Oikawa. His mother, on the other hand, poses more of a difficulty. But Oikawa knows how to play her angles.

He chooses his timing carefully. It’s Saturday, exactly a week from when he returned home. It’s six at night, only an hour before his dad gets back from work. The less players, the better. Oikawa glances out the window of his room; the sun is just starting to set, and will soon provide a cover of darkness. It’s the perfect time.

He grabs his backpack, still stocked with all of his materials from before. Then he grabs the stack of stack of papers containing his research and plans from his desk. He grips the papers in his hand tightly, creating a dent in the middle. Hardly anyone uses paper anymore, but Oikawa likes the affordances of paper and the way it feels in his hands. Iwaizumi always teased him, calling him ‘old-fashioned stick-in-the-mud dumbass-kawa.’ Oikawa would always complain when Iwaizumi called him that, but now he smiles at the memory. As much as Iwaizumi would complain about his fixation on paper, he would never forget to pick up a package of extra paper for him.

Oikawa misses him. He wants Iwaizumi back. And that’s why this has to go perfectly.

Oikawa pulls a lighter out from his desk and clicks it on. He brings the flame to the edge of the stack and the papers burn.

A black hole eats the paper away. Oikawa drops it into his trashcan once he feels the heat beat against his hand. His notes go up in flames, the evidence disappearing in a swirl smoke, setting off the fire alarm.

Oikawa is nothing if not efficient.

_Bleep! Bleep! Bleep!_

He walks downstairs, placing his bag on the bottom step. Below, he already hears his mother panicking.

“Oh my gosh - Tooru! Tooru the alarm! Tooru - !”

He rounds the stairs in slight jog and runs into her. “Mom, I don’t know what happened - it’s not a false alarm, the heater, it just - ”

His mom pushes him out the door, grappling for her phone. “I know, I smelled the smoke - just go outside Tooru! Go outside!”

They bolt for the door, his mother quickly disabling the security system, and run outside. They turn back and look at the house. A grey plume floats out of the window up towards the sky. The blood drains out of his mother’s face and she begins to shake. Her hands clench his arm in a iron grip. Oikawa knows she fears fire more than anything else. Guilt crushes him in an overwhelming wave. _He_ did this to her. He knew what he was doing when he concocted this plan, and he thought he was prepared to feel bad, but putting it in action caused more of a reaction on his part than he anticipated.

_Focus, Crappykawa._

Right. He still has to pull this off.

He guides his mother down to the ground, so she won’t fall over, dials the emergency number for her, and holds the phone up to her ear. Her hand quivers in his.

Oikawa smiles at her and says, “I need go to back in. I want to save those pictures of Grandma and Grandpa. I know you can’t bear to lose them.”

His mom’s eyes go wide. “Tooru - n-no - ”

He stands up and leaves her. “I’ll be right back,” he lies. He jogs up to the house.

“Tooru! Get back here!” she shouts.

Oikawa turns back. He meets her eyes, wide with terror and rimmed with red. “I love you,” he tells her. Then he ducks inside, knowing that she won’t follow.

He runs to the stairs and grabs his bag. As he jogs to the back door, he pulls a single sheet of paper out of his bag. It’s the last piece of paper left. He folds it up and sets it on the kitchen counter, for his parents to find later.

He looks back at the front door one more time, then walks out the back way, hopping the fence.

He notices his cheeks are wet. Sweat? No - tears. He’s crying. He’s crying because he did a horrible thing to his mother and his body knew it before he did. He left his mother, who has always, always cared for him and loved him, alone on the sidewalk, petrified with fear.

He made it out of his house, and even though his thoughts should be on finding Ushijima, or Iwaizumi, but the image of his mother, eyes wide and face pale, bombards his senses. He stifles a sob.

He’s seen a face like that before.

_The boy’s face is pale and wet with snot and tears, the redness around his wide eyes contrasting their bright blue color. His lip trembles and he whimpers softly, like an animal, terrified. His fear is a tangible thing, a dense mass of horror that rolls off of him in waves, crawling through the room and down Oikawa’s throat._

_Oikawa raises the tranq gun, pointing it at the boy’s thigh. The boy gasps._

_His hands puts his hands out in surrender, but they’re shaking. “P-p-please,” he warbles._

_That single word strikes down any semblance of composure he had. Now he’s crying, too. The fear stabs at his chest and clenches his throat, but his hand moves of its own accord._

_He pulls the trigger._

Oikawa bites his lip, but it doesn’t keep him from sobbing.

_I’m a pretty awful person, huh Iwa-chan? Not that I didn’t already know that._

A voice in his head counters him.

_Don’t be an idiot, Shittykawa. Of course you’re not._

But the words are faint and without Iwaizumi there to whisper them in his ear, Oikawa doesn’t believe it at all.

 

**xviii. Doctor’s Assistant**

_[date redacted]_

 

There were three unwinding procedures today, and everyone’s exhausted. The doctor’s assistant is exhausted too, but while all the other nurses and surgeons go to bed, the doctor’s assistant starts on her next task. She sits at a desk in a lab separate from the rest of the medical bay, a large coffee in her hand. She logs into the system with a handprint and pulls up a file labeled REWIND_FEED. She opens up the video and audio feeds from today, puts her headphones, and begins to watch.

Every single night, after hours of work in the unwinding facility, she stays behind to do this extra work on the doctor’s classified project, the one he entrusted to her.  

She’s lucky he picked her.  

The project is boring. The project is tedious. The project requires an immeasurable amount of work. Wading through the perpetual flow of information is not a desirable task by any means. But the results of this project will surely be extraordinary, and her name will forever go down in history. Her observations of this unwind - no, _rewind_ \- will undoubtedly lead the world into a new age of unwinding.

It’s not completely boring, watching the rewind. His life is rather dramatic, after all. She had worried about the amount of freedom the doctor allowed him, even though she knows it’s perfectly safe. One part of her worries, but another part is grateful the rewind isn’t confined to a laboratory. Now _that_ would be a boring scene to watch. At least with this amount of freedom, she can watch him in the real world; the ecological validity is higher this way.

She sips at her coffee until it goes lukewarm. She catches herself dazing off a few times, but tries to focus more carefully by taking constant notes. That’s what she’s meant to do, after all. Watch all of his waking moments, make observations about him, see how he reacted to the procedure that tore him apart and sewed him back together again. Security was constantly monitoring and tracking his movements in real time, to ensure his safety, but it was her job to assess his healing progress and state of mind.

The night is long, like every other night. It takes her four hours to fast-forward through a twenty four hour day. She has to pause constantly to record her observations, and today is no exception. In fact, she has even more to record than usual.

She breathes a sigh of relief when she finishes, and closes out of the video with an satisfying _click_.

The rewind has offered her some very enlightening information today. Perhaps not the words she want to hear, but feedback is feedback, and the doctor will definitely want to hear about this.

She writes up a quick report, emails it to the doctor for him to read in the morning, and gratefully retires to bed, leaving her coffee cup on the table, dregs growing cold in the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oikawa tooru is extra af. I love him dearly. and my son Yama, also known as Yamaguchi “Inner Turmoil” Tadashi...someone help him
> 
> thank you all for your continued support!! luv you guys!!!
> 
> next time: the return of Iwaizumi, as well as some new and old faces ;)


	7. Connections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi Keiji desperately wants to make cardboard box forts with Bokuto. Tsukishima Kei is a soggy, salty, McDonald’s french fry. Iwaizumi Hajime handles two large kittens.

**xix. Akaashi Keiji**

_ (Oct. 1) _

In retrospect, this was an awful idea. Why did he agree to pretend to be Bokuto’s boyfriend? They could have pretended to be siblings, storked siblings, the rebels would have bought that, right? But they made their choice, and now they had to pose as a couple. 

He should have protested more, but he didn’t. The problem wasn’t Bokuto himself - Akaashi just didn’t want to pretend to be together. He knows how dangerous relationships can be, and the prospect of one - even a fake one, especially a fake one - terrifies him. 

Akaashi has never been in a relationship before. 

There was no time when he was at the staho. He dedicated himself to music, determined to make something of himself with his instruments, and succeed where so many had failed before. His work had paid off, but at what cost? And once it had, his dating habits - or rather, lack of them - were self evident.  

If his situation were different, would that have changed anything? Akaashi doesn’t think so. He’s never been very interested in romance. Thoughts of dating have crossed his mind before, especially when he sees couples like Kuroo and Kenma who seem like they could be so great together. Whenever he pictures himself dating, though, he can never picture what his partner would look like. In the past, he could never imagine himself dating any of his friends, let alone strangers. He doesn’t even know what kind of person he would like. 

And then there’s Bokuto. On one hand, he’s happy it’s him that he’s pretending to have a relationship with. Bokuto’s presence has been...grounding.

But on the other hand, he’s Bokuto - he’s selfless and caring and inherently good - and Akaashi’s not. How ironic that Bokuto thought Akaashi was too good for him, when it’s surely the other way around. 

He had thought for a fleeting moment, back at the safehouse with Kuroo and Kenma, that he could put his past behind him, and fly free of this burden. But he had a history he dragged behind him in a ball-and-chain, handcuffs pinned him to the ground. Only this time, he didn’t have the key. There was no key. The iron was welded to him, forever. The incident was just another weight added to the already heavy weight he already carried.  

He wonders what Bokuto would think if he knew everything about Akaashi, about his history at the staho and his escapades after it. Is it bad for him to hold this information about himself from Bokuto? He would probably be disgusted to know what Akaashi has done. Would he even feel sympathy for him? Bokuto was an empathetic person, but Akaashi doesn’t know if even his pity would stretch that far. 

He can’t worry about that right now. He needs to concentrate on acting like a couple, to keep Bokuto around for as long as he can. 

The new safe house is in the basement of a storage facility. Their small space is covered in countless cardboard boxes, but it’s much roomier than their last lodging. He and Bokuto have the place to themselves for a short while before they’re joined by two other boys. The first one is shorter than him, with close cropped brown hair and a deep tan. The second has a long face a short hair, but the most remarkable thing about him is his height. He’s so tall he towers over even Bokuto. Looking between the two boys, the difference in height is almost comical. 

The shorter one holds out his hand to them. “Hey, I’m Nakashima, nice to meet you.”

“Hyakuzawa,” the tall one says. 

Bokuto reaches for his hand and shakes it excitedly. “I’m Bokuto, and this is Akaashi!”  

Nakashima’s widen, and he looks between them curiously. “So you two know each other?” 

Akaashi nods. “Yes -  ”

“We’re dating!” Bokuto bursts. Akaashi bites his lip. Was that how couples normally introduced themselves? He doesn’t have any experience to compare it to. 

Luckily, Nakashima seems to accept it. Hyakuzawa looks surprised as well, but he doesn’t question it. “No way,” Nakashima says. “How did that start? Not to be rude, but...we’re kind of running for our lives?”

Bokuto bursts, “It’s a great story actually, we met in the cell of a Juvey station, right when we were going to be taken to be unwound. But, we weren’t going to go without a fight, and strength in numbers, right? Akaashi and I were trying to come up with a plan to get away, and all the sudden, this Juvey cop comes in and tells us he’s going to unlock our cuffs! When we get into the van to be taken away! But the van was full of other unwinds, and we couldn’t just leave them there, and I thought everything was over with, but then Akaashi - ” he knocks against Akaashi’s shoulder playfully. Akaashi has to steady himself to keep from falling over, “ - whips out a key and says, ‘No one’s getting unwound on my watch’ and we get everyone free and jump out the back of the moving van - ”

“And we were on the streets for a couple of months after that,” Akaashi interrupts. He gives Bokuto a look to say he’ll take it from here. Bokuto closes his mouth and gives a small nod. If he lets Bokuto tells them the complete truth, their credibility as a couple will definitely come into question. “We...worked well as a team, so we decided to stick together after that.”

“It’s the best decision I’ve made since day one of this mess,” Bokuto says unabashedly. Akaashi knows he’s just playing a part, but the words give him a rush of pleasure. And embarrassment. He feels his face heating up.

“...we only found the safe house system recently. And by that time, I, um…”

Bokuto squeezes his hand. “I realized I want Akaashi by my side forever.”

_ Dammit Bokuto.  _ He gulps, and forces the words out of his mouth. “And I wanted that, too...so here we are.”

This was definitely a horrible idea. How could Bokuto say such things so easily? He knew exactly what to say, and Akaashi considered himself impressed. Only, Akaashi isn’t sure how much of this he can take. His stomach twists and his heart fluttering and he’s not sure if it’s from discomfort or embarrassment. Probably both. 

Eventually Bokuto drifts off and starts building sculptures out of the boxes. The rest of them set up their cots and lay down.

Nakashima lies on his stomach and props his chin on his hands. “That’s incredible what you did,” he says to Akaashi. “You saved a lot of lives.”

“...thanks,” Akaashi says. That’s what Kuroo had said about him, too. Hearing that should make him feel good, but instead he just feels guilty. He’s failed to save people twice before, and this one act doesn’t make up for his past sins. “It wasn’t...it was mostly Bokuto.” 

“I thought you were the one who stole the keys?” Hyakuzawa asks.

Akaashi shrugs. “It was no big deal.”

“I bet it was a big deal to the kids you saved,” Nakashima says. Akaashi thinks of Shibayama, and the look of gratitude on his face when he hugged Bokuto and thanked them. Nakashima smiles at him knowingly. “It’s okay to celebrate a victory.”

Suddenly a crash sounds from behind them. The turn around to see Bokuto pinned to the ground under a pile of cardboard.

“Um...oops?”

“Bokuto-san, you should be more quiet,” Akaashi says. “People could hear us.”

“Sorry…” Bokuto looks away. He whispers, “I’ll be quieter this time!”

Bokuto crawls out from beneath the jungle of boxes and gets to work reordering them, moving half the speed he was before. Akaashi only finds it a little bit adorable.

“If you’re dating, why do you call him Bokuto-san?” Hyakuzawa asks. 

_ Shit. _ He slipped up. Couples usually call each other by the first names, or at least don’t use such formal honorifics. “I...only call him that in public. It’s different, in private.” 

Hyakuzawa seems satisfied by this answer, and Akaashi nearly sighs in relief. 

Nakashima nods. “Bet you haven’t had much privacy lately. That must suck.”

“Yes. It’s not...optimal, I suppose.”

They take a moment to look back at Bokuto. He’s trying to balance a large box on the edge of a smaller one. Every time he lets go of the top box, it totters back and forth and Bokuto has to jump to catch it from hitting the ground.

“It’s cool that you’ve found someone,” Nakashima says. “It must make being in this shitty situation a little more bearable.”

He thinks of what Kenma said, about how being in a relationship was more terrifying than not being in one. If you fall in love with someone, the risk of losing them was only that much worse. It makes him thankful he’s not actually dating Bokuto. 

“It has its benefits,” he says.

_ Rrrrrrrrip. _

Bokuto’s tearing a box along a fold. He stares at the box intently, going slowly to ensure the straightest line possible. He looks up and notices them watching him.  _ Sorry,  _ he mouths, and goes back to work. 

“So...” Nakashima says in such a tone that Akaashi knows exactly what he’s going to ask. “What made your parents sign the order?” 

He was right. “Budget cuts at the staho,” Akaashi says. Best to keep it short and simple. Less room for questions - he learned that from last time. 

Nakashima turns to Hyakuzawa. “How about you?”

“Money. I’m tall. Bigger parts mean more money. My dad’s friends thought he was wasting an opportunity with me. He came around to the idea pretty quickly,” Hyakuzawa says. He casts his eyes down, and picks at the edge of his cot. “I’d say it’s no big deal, but...it is. I should be angry, and I am, but mostly...it just hurts. Knowing my dad wanted money more than me.” 

Akaashi clenches his fist. Adults are awful. He knows that from experience. It almost makes him happy he doesn’t know his parents; that way, they can’t betray him like that. Though, they did abandon him at the staho, so maybe they already did betray him. 

“How about you?” Hyakuzawa asks Nakashima. 

Nakashima sighs and sits up. Akaashi senses he’s getting ready give a long explanation, one that he’s given before. “I was a tithe, actually.”

“Whoa, a tithe?” Bokuto materializes by his shoulder. Apparently he had grown bored of his box sculptures. 

“Yup. I had the tithing greens and everything.”

Akaashi’s never met a tithe before. He doesn’t know much about them beyond the obvious, and that there’s a huge difference between tithes and unwinds. He’s always figured tithes were conservative, religious nuts, but Nakashima doesn’t strike him as the type.

“It’s not like what you’re thinking,” Nakashima says, looking at Akaashi. “My parents decided pretty early on that they didn’t want to tithe me after all, though, so I didn’t grow up with that bullcrap tithes usually hear. But they’d already signed the order, which is irreversible.”

“Oh no…” Bokuto whispered, brows furrowed in sympathy. 

“That’s why I had to wear green, so the Juvies thought we were following through with it. But I have a big family, and we’re pretty close, and my parents assured me there was no way they were going to let me be taken away from them. When I turned thirteen, my parents hid me in the basement and told the Juvies I had run. I was going to stay hidden until I turned eighteen, but the neighbors found out and reported us, and that’s when I had to go AWOL. I managed to live off the streets for a few years before finally finding a safe house.”

“That sucks, my dude,” Bokuto says. Akaashi’s inclined to agree. 

But Nakashima just smiles. “Nah, I think I’m pretty lucky. Once this is all over with, I have a family to go back to. I  _ have _ to get through it, so they’ll stop blaming themselves. Besides, I’m on my way to the Court now. I’ll get to chill for my last few months before my birthday. Trying to survive gets pretty tiring, you know.”

“How long have you been on the run?” Hyakuzawa asks. 

“Since a little after my thirteenth birthday, so...four years?”

Bokuto squawks. “Holy shit you’ve been avoiding the Juvies for  _ four years?” _

“Hell yeah.”

“You must have some crazy stories.”

“You have no idea. Wanna hear some?”

 

 

**xx. Tsukishima Kei**

_ (Oct. 1) _

There’s something wrong with Yamaguchi. 

Ever since they left Karasuno, he’s been withdrawn. He doesn’t talk, doesn’t make the kind of idle conversation that normally annoys Tsukishima so much, except for when it’s Yamaguchi. He doesn’t crack jokes. He doesn’t protest going to the Court, or whine about the heat, or even about carrying that damn tent bag.

Tsukishima carries it for him anyways.

And there was the kiss. Two days ago, Yamaguchi wished him a happy birthday, kissed him on the cheek, and then practically ran away. Tsukishima isn’t sure if that’s a good thing or not that he ran away so quickly - he was glad Yamaguchi didn’t stick around to see his fiery red blush, but now he didn’t know how to bring it up again. And he was a little desperate to bring it up, because he had no idea what it meant.

Was it a kiss between friends, like a birthday present? Was it a thank you kiss, for saving him from being unwound? Was it meant to be more than that? Tsukishima didn’t dare think about that possibility. 

And what did it mean, now that Yamaguchi was acting like this? He pretended he was fine, brushed off all of Tsukishima’s questions with a weak “I’m tired, sorry,” and gave him that fake-ass smile Tsukishima couldn’t stand.  

That night, while they’re eating, Tsukishima watches him. He picks at his food half-heartedly, and eats without enthusiasm, even though he must be starving. He slouches like he’s carrying the sky on his shoulders. There are bags under his eyes, creases in his forehead with lines so clear Tsukishima could trace his fingers across them. In between bites, he chews his lip, biting the broken skin. Tsukishima absently reaches up and touches his own cheek, remembering those lips ghosting across his skin. 

“We’re going to have to go into town tomorrow,” Tsukishima says. “It’s the fastest way there.”

Yamaguchi nods.

“Will you be okay? Going back to civilization?”

Yamaguchi looks up at him. “If you’re asking if I’m going to run, the answer is no. You don’t need to worry about it.”

No matter how truthful Yamaguchi sounds, he’s not going to believe it. But that was a given. He worries more about the tone of Yamaguchi’s voice; he sounds flat, hollow, passionless. 

“We can stop at a McDonald’s,” he offers. “Get some fries.”

“Oh. If you want.”

Tsukishima frowns. Yamaguchi  _ loves _ McDonalds. Tsukishima can’t count how many times Yamaguchi has gone on a rant about their fries. He would never miss an opportunity to eat at McDonald’s.

That’s it. He’s tired of this avoidance bullshit.

“What’s wrong,” he asks Yamaguchi flatly.

Yamaguchi pauses, and sets his meal down. “What makes you think there’s anything wrong?” Yamaguchi says.

“You’re acting...weird. Weirder than usual.”

Yamaguchi laughs. There it is again, that fake smile. “Gee, thanks, Tsukki.”

“What’s wrong?” he repeats. 

“I’m fine.”

_ Liar.  _

“Then why aren’t you talking to me?” Tsukishima demands. He points accusingly at Yamaguchi’s food. “Or eating?”

Silence.

“Why did you kiss me...”

Yamaguchi flushes a red so bright, Tsukishima can easily make it out despite the darkness. 

“I’m fine - I’m just tired, okay, I do weird stuff when I get tired...”

“Stop  _ lying _ . It’s pathetic.”

Yamaguchi’s lips curl and the creases in his forward draw down. His fists clench. Tsukshima can see that’s he’s frustrated, angry, tired of Tsukishima’s pestering, and it sends a thrill down Tsukishima’s spine. 

_ Yes, yell back. Get angry. Feel something.  _

But just as soon as it was there, it’s gone. He smiles again, unclenches his fists. Takes an even breath. 

“Sorry. You’re right, I’m not fine...but I will be soon,” Yamaguchi admits. 

It’s a relief to hear him finally admit it. It makes sense; until they get to the Court, there’s a pervasive threat of danger. No one could be fine in those conditions. 

So why does Tsukishima get the feeling that’s not what he’s talking about at all?

He brushes the thought aside. What’s important now is making sure Yamaguchi gets to the Court in once piece, and preferably, in a good mood. 

“Okay,” he says. “McDonalds tomorrow it is.”

 

  
  


**xxi. Iwaizumi Hajime**

_ (Oct. 1) _

Over the past few weeks, Iwaizumi was shipped between several safe houses. The safe houses are anything from a citizen’s basement, to the back of a shop, to a shrine in the woods. He stays at one for a few days with some other AWOLs, gets to know them a bit, and then gets shipped away to another safe house. He hasn’t seen anyone twice, yet. 

This time, he’s stuck in the basement of a chemical lab with two other guys. The rebel who brought them here housed them in the storage closet. It was filled with rows of shelves stacked with miscellaneous cleaning supplies, broken equipment, and boxes upon boxes of old paper files.  _ Oikawa would love that. _ Like the other safe houses, Iwaizumi is disappointed to see, it has no windows. He misses the sunlight.

The two other guys are already at home when he arrives, strewn out on the floor like cats lazing in the sun. Only they’re teenagers, and the only light in here is artificial. One of them is curled up by the wall with some gaming device in his hand. He’s completely fixated on it. The other one of them, who introduced himself as Kuroo, leans against a big metal cylinder, probably filled with chemicals. 

“This can’t be safe,” Iwaizumi says. 

Kuroo sits up and pats the vat. It clangs and echoes around the space. “Don’t worry, it’s empty.”

Iwaizumi’s not appeased. “Living in a lab - it can’t be safe.”

Kuroo shrugs. “It’s better than the alternative.”

Sure, Kuroo’s right, but just because this was better than being shipped off to harvest camp doesn’t mean it’s safe. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean it’s safe.” 

“Don’t worry, there’s nothing here that could kill you.” Kuroo thinks for a moment, then adds, “Probably.”

Iwaizumi glares at him. “If that was supposed to be reassuring, you failed. Anyway, how do you know?”

Kuroo gestures around the room. “This is a tranq lab. They mix the chemicals used in tranq darts here. Didn’t you see the crates of darts out there?”

Iwaizumi shakes his head. “I was more focused on the vials of dangerous looking chemicals.”

“Meh.” Kuroo waves his hand dismissively. “The worst it can do is knock you out. Probably.”

Iwaizumi frowns. “I don’t think you’re in any place to make assumptions if you’re going to end all of them with ‘probably.’”

Kuroo just laughs. Iwaizumi doesn’t think he likes him much. 

“Don’t worry, I have some idea of what I’m talking about. Right Kenma?” He turns to the boy with the gaming device. 

The shorter boy shrugs, not even looking up. “Not really.”

Iwaizumi smirks. 

Kuroo pokes Kenma’s arm. “Hey. I didn’t take three years of chemistry at the staho to have you turn on me like this.”

Iwaizumi’s surprised. They didn’t strike him as the staho type. He’s met quite a few since his safe house salsa, and none of them were this open. They tended to be defensive, and keep away from the other unwinds. “You’re staho kids?”

Kuroo looks up at him defiantly. “Yeah. Got a problem with that?”

“No,” he says. “I’m a stork, so…”

“Ah! So you weren’t wanted either.”

_ Does this guy have no filter? _ “You didn’t have to put it like that, but yeah.” Iwaizumi sits down on the floor. “That’s why I’m here. Because my foster parents didn’t want to deal with me anymore, I guess.” 

Kuroo kneels in front of him. “I figured. I’ve heard that story from like five unwinds already.”

“Thanks…”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. I bet you’ve heard the staho story ten times already. Budget cuts lead to strict gleaning, and we weren’t good enough to keep around. You’ve heard it before.”

He’s right, that sounded like a similar story the other stahos had offered when they were pestered with questions. None of them were as open about it as Kuroo, though. 

“Am I wrong?” Kuroo asks like he already knows the answer. 

“It’s more like twenty.”

Kuroo throws his head back and laughs. 

Now that they’ve gotten to talking, Iwaizumi’s beginning to warm up to him. Kuroo kind of reminds him of Oikawa. His personality was terrible - teasing, meddling, can’t seem to shut up. But he’s clever, if his three years of chemistry instruction was anything to go by. He’s fake like Oikawa, too, judging from his perpetual smirk. He doesn’t seem like such a bad guy, though. 

Thinking of Oikawa hurts. He misses his boyfriend. He misses seeing his stupidly perfect face first thing in the morning and last thing before bed. He misses spiking Oikawa’s perfect tosses. He misses their afternoons together after practice, talking about nothing for hours. He misses that stupid nickname Oikawa gave him when they were kids that he can’t seem to hate. He misses their lips pressed together, he misses holding him in his arms, the beat of his breath against his skin - 

His longing has become a tangible thing. It taps the back of his shoulders and hugs him around the waist, clawing its way to his heart with shadows of sensual touches and teasing  promises whispered in his ear. 

They had only been dating for a year. They had so many more years ahead of them to make memories, grow closer, and older, together. He had so many more things he wanted to share with that ridiculous brat.  

Now he’ll have to remain on the run for almost a year, until his birthday next June. 

That’s assuming he makes it that long. Assuming Oikawa will want him back. 

Iwaizumi never had any strong feelings about unwinding either way, but now that he was on this side of the situation, he had a very strong anti-unwinding stance. Especially after hearing all the stories from the other unwinds. They were nothing like the delinquents and criminals Oikawa always said they were - they were kids, just like him.

He began to see the thread of lies adults spun about the benefactors of unwinding. It saves lives. It gives parents a choice. Some children are happier in a divided state. It’s the best solution to population control. Look at all the good things unwinding has done for Japan!

Oikawa was caught in the thread of lies. Ever since Takeru’s treatment, and even moreso after Oikawa’s surgeries, he has touted the benefits of unwinding. That’s the worst part, not knowing what Oikawa’s thinking right now. Everything between them has changed now that Iwaizumi is an unwind, because when Iwaizumi left him, he was the most pro-unwinding teen advocate he knew.

How would that change their relationship? What did Oikawa think of him, right now? Was he angry at Iwaizumi’s parents? Or was he angry at Iwaizumi himself, for not being good enough for them? Was he sad? Did he think it was already too late for him, that Iwaizumi was already unwound? He didn’t even know Iwaizumi went AWOL. Oikawa had trained to capture people like him.

He imagines Oikawa training a tranq gun on him. It’s a recurring image in his thoughts. He knows it won’t ever happen, it can’t ever happen, since Oikawa quit the Junior Juvies, but it haunts him anyways. 

He thinks of the tranq darts in the lab, with only a wall standing between them. He shudders. 

“Cold?” Kuroo asks. 

“No. Just thinking about the tranqs…” He glares at the door. “One day some dumbass Juvey is going to load his gun and send a bunch of kids to harvest camp with the tranqs in that room. It makes me sick.”

“Tell me about it,” Kuroo says. “Hey - have you ever been hit with one before?”

Iwaizumi shakes his head. 

“I have,” Kuroo says.

“He didn’t ask,” Kenma mumbles. Iwaizumi chuckles. 

“Well now I feel bad for oversharing,” Kuroo says.

“No you don’t,” Kenma says.

“You got me there.”

Iwaizumi looks back and forth between them. They have an interesting relationship. He assumes they know each other from before; even if Kuroo hadn’t hinted at it, he would be able to tell from the way they interacted. Casual, teasing, familiar enough to joke with; they have the dynamic of long time friends. Iwaizumi recognizes it because that’s how he and Oikawa are. 

He doesn’t want to think about Oikawa right now. 

“...so you’ve really gotten shot before?”

Kuroo’s smirk grows wider. “I’ve caught your interest, haven’t I?”

“Not like there’s anything else to do in this godforsaken place,” Iwaizumi says. 

“You could read,” a voice offers.  

He turns to Kenma, who still hadn’t looked up from his PSP. “Read what?” he asks.

Kenma points to the boxes of files.

“Um...no thanks.”

Kenma glances up and smiles. “Yeah. Only Kuroo would voluntarily read something as nerdy as that.”

“Hey. I resent that.”

“No you don't. You love being called a nerd.”

“Do not.”

“Do too.”

“Stop harassing me, I’ve got a story to tell.”

Kuroo’s story is so elaborate and convoluted that Iwaizumi almost doesn’t believe him. 

“And he carried you away?”

“No,  _ rolled _ me away. The skateboard, remember?”

But it’s so ridiculous that he can’t have made it up. No one has that much creative genius.

“What the fuck. While you were unconscious?”

“Yup. I was still covered in gasoline, you know. It left a trail, too, so the woman let her dog loose - ”

“Fuck.”

“ - and I thought _ Fuck, we’re done for, that’s it, the dog’s going to find us and hack us to pieces. _ ”

“Wait, I thought you were unconscious?”

“I was. But if I wasn’t that’s what I would’ve thought. Anyways, Kenma’s huddled behind the bushes, trying to stuff me under there next to him, waiting for this dog to come. But he never comes, because  _ the dog can’t fucking smell. _ This lady got this hunting dog just for tracking AWOLs but the poor thing can’t pick up a scent! So she’s yelling at her dog and the dog’s just sitting there, so Kenma hightails it and drags us out of there.”

“Fuck.”

“You have a way with words, Iwaizumi.”

Iwaizumi sits back. “I can’t believe you guys got out of that. Who do you think you are, the Akron AWOL?”

Kuroo smirks. “Nah, but I do know some guys like him. They saved an entire bus of kids from being unwind.”

“No way.”

“I know, I can hardly believe it. But I heard one of the rebels talking about how much trouble it was causing the Juvies. A dozen unwinds, set free in the middle of Tokyo. The press probably had a field day.”

“That’s amazing.”

“Yeah...it is. Damn, makes me wish I could do something like that.”

“Yeah, me too.” A few weeks ago, Iwaizumi wouldn’t have had that reaction. Hell, he probably wouldn’t have even understood Kuroo’s desire to do that. But now, he too has that desire to protect other unwinds, to fight back. It was just like volleyball; it’s a game of Pro- versus Anti-Unwinding. The unwinds are his teammates now, and the Juvies are their opponents. Yet this camaraderie between them runs deeper than any volleyball team, because this is more than a game - it’s survival. 

Kuroo sits up. His eyes light up like he has an idea. Iwaizumi suspects it’s not a good one. 

“Maybe we  _ can _ do something,” he says. His gaze shifts to the door leading to the lab. 

Iwaizumi raises his eyebrows. “You don’t mean the tranqs?”

Kuroo smirks. “That’s exactly what I mean.”

Kenma finally looks up from his game. “Kuroo...” he says, his tone warning him not to go further.

Iwaizumi can’t help but agree. “We...we can’t tamper with those. The people who’re letting us stay here...they might get in trouble, and…”

He believes what he’s saying, but at the same time, he wonders. If they tampered with the bullets now, they could save the life of an unwind later. It might put someone at risk, but wouldn’t it be worth it?

He remembers something else about volleyball: you can’t just rely on defense, you have to take the offensive if you want to win. 

Kuroo’s smiling at him, like he already knows what Iwaizumi’s going to say. 

“What did you have in mind?”

Kenma sets his game down. “Wait. I don’t think - ”

“I know how to neutralize the effects of the tranquilizer.”

“Wait, what?” Iwaizumi was expecting to smash the crates, or maybe replace the liquid with something else. “How the hell - ”

“Taught myself,” Kuroo interrupts. “Thought it might be useful.” Iwaizumi was right in his assessment of Kuroo earlier - that’s exactly something Oikawa would do. 

“ _ Kuroo _ ,” Kenma spits, loud enough to finally hold Kuroo’s attention. “You can’t.”

Kuroo frowns. “Why not?”

“It’s dangerous. You’ll hurt yourself, or...or get other people in trouble.”

“Yeah, but we could help even more people get out of trouble - ”

“That’s not the point, it’s too much of a risk!” 

“But - ”

“Don’t!” Kenma says, almost at a shout. “Please…”

For a long moment, Kuroo is silent. He stares at Kenma with fire in his eyes, and Kenma stares right back, just as stubborn. Iwaizumi can see non-verbal blows being exchanged in a fierce, silent battle. In the end, it’s Kuroo who wears out first.

“Fine,” he says, dropping his gaze and looking at his feet. “We won’t.”

Kenma doesn’t look victorious; he’s still watching Kuroo intensely, glaring in frustration. He gets the sense Kenma doesn’t think he’s telling the truth. Iwaizumi doesn’t believe him either.

Hours later, when the rebel worker comes and it’s Kenma’s turn in the bathroom, Kuroo tells Iwaizumi he was lying earlier. Iwaizumi tells him he knew.

“This is too great of an opportunity,” Kuroo stresses. “Yeah it’s dangerous, but we’re AWOLs - just  _ living _ is dangerous for us. We need to fight back. I don’t know why Kenma can’t understand that…”

“I think he’s just looking out for you.” 

Iwaizumi considers what he would do if it were he and Oikawa. If Oikawa wanted to vandalize the tranqs instead of Kuroo. Iwaizumi knows he would never let him do it - there was too much risk, Oikawa could hurt himself or get himself caught, or killed. That’s probably what Kenma’s thinking right now, and Iwaizumi can’t blame him. 

Kuroo gives a frustrated huff. “He doesn’t get it. I’m doing this for him, for his sake. The fight against the Juvies, against unwinding, this is our fight, you know? It’s personal. It affects us directly. Who knows, maybe some Juvey is going to catch us one day, and shoot us with those very same darts.”

Iwaizumi nods, because he’s right. This fight is greater than the two of them - it’s greater than all of them, but in the end, it’s personal.

“Are you going to help me? I need someone to keep a look out.”

If he were with Oikawa, there was no way he’d say yes. He’d be sure to stop this whole thing from happening. He knows it’s hypocritical, but he knows himself well and that’s what he would do. 

But, Oikawa isn’t here, is he?

This fight is personal, and Iwaizumi’s determined to play his part.

“Okay.”

Kuroo smiles gratefully. “Tomorrow night?”

“Tomorrow night.”

Iwaizumi tosses back and forth in his cot, but he can’t seem to fall asleep. His eye catches a light - Kenma’s still paying his game. 

He sits up, and glances at Kuroo; he’s fast asleep on his cot, legs sprawled out behind him and head smashed between two pillows. Iwaizumi smirks, and tiptoes around him to join Kenma.

He doesn’t move when Iwaizumi sits down next to him. Iwaizumi wonders if he even realizes Iwaizumi’s there.

He watches him play the game for a few minutes before speaking up. 

“You know he’s going to do it anyways.”

Kenma doesn’t look up from his game. He doesn’t even flinch. “I know.”

“I’m going to help him.”

“I figured.”

“I thought you should know.”

“Yeah.”

“We’re doing a good thing here,” Iwaizumi says, attempting to justify their actions. 

Kenma saves his game and puts it down. The light from the screen, the only light in the room,  shines up against his chin, highlighting his face like he’s about to tell a scary story. 

“It’s too risky. He’s putting himself in danger when he doesn’t need to, and he knows it.” He turns to Iwaizumi. There’s something hypnotic and terrifying about Kenma’s gaze. His irises catch the light and gleam gold. “You should know that too. Haven’t you got people waiting for you? Do you really want to risk everything right now? Even if you might never see them again?”

“Of course I don’t,” Iwaizumi says immediately. Of course he wants to see Oikawa again, of course he doesn’t want to put that at risk, but… 

“...but there are more important things.”

Kenma narrows his eyes. “Kuroo is the most important thing to me,” he says defensively. 

Iwaizumi gulps. Kenma’s staring at him intently, daring him to argue. “You could help us,” Iwaizumi says. “Make sure he stays out of trouble.” 

Kenma glares for a moment longer, then turns away. He picks up his game and goes back to playing, and his eyes glaze over.

Apparently that was the end of that conversation. 

“...Okay then.” Iwaizumi stands up. “The offer still stands. Goodnight.”

He walks back to his cot, and falls asleep to the rhythmic sound of clicking buttons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> am i ever going to stop with the ‘do not/do too’ dialogue? The answer is no. y’all are going to be so sick of it by the end of this bc i’m going to continue to use it every 2 lines
> 
> thank you for all the support so far!! you all rock!!!
> 
> next chapter: shit goes down. at Mc Donald's


	8. Selfish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa Tooru goes to McDonald's. Yamaguchi Tadashi also goes to McDonald's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so the other day i read Neal Shusterman’s newest book Scythe and holy hell did it mess with my head. Who knows right from wrong anymore more, certainly not me. I highly recommend you read it
> 
> there's a song that has inspired Yamaguchi's part so if you wanna get in the mood - listen to [The Graveyard By The House by The Airborn Toxic Event](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cvtd7kG_B8U). It is also on [the playlist](http://satyr-syd.tumblr.com/post/157052869294/out-of-body-a-playlist-by-satyrsyd-on-spotify) i made

**xxii. Oikawa Tooru**

_(Oct. 2)_

This will be the third Juvey station he’s checked. He’s already wasted two days staking out two other stations, waiting all day to see if Ushijima or his partner appeared. But they hadn’t; in fact, neither of those two stations even employed Junior Juvies - he’d made sure to check. So Oikawa moved on, and now he stands in front of this station.

_Third time’s a charm, isn’t that what the Americans say?_

The Juvey cop station is larger than any Oikawa’s ever seen before. It sits in the middle of the busy street, unlike the common corner stations, under the guise of just being another business. Yet it doesn’t blend in with the other stores at all. A large parking lot separates distances it from the street. A chain-link fence surrounds it on all sides except the center, where a gate holds itself wide open, inviting in those daring enough to enter. The double-door entrance, made of one-way black glass and large enough to be seen from this distance, boasts authority while shrouding it in mystery. Above it, a microtron flashes an ad proclaiming, _“Sometimes the sum of the parts is greater than the whole!”_

Oikawa always thought that tagline captured the beauty of unwinding perfectly. But he knows Iwaizumi is worthy much more whole than in pieces.

He thinks of the boy from training camp, with the blue eyes and promising future.

_Maybe Iwa-chan isn’t the only one._

He takes up residence in the McDonald’s near the station and begins his stakeout after ordering a tall caramel frappe with extra whip from the ordering terminal. This station is busier than the other two. Within an hour, he counts nine Juvies walk in and out. Soon, a cop car pulls into the parking lot in front of the station, and out pops two Juvies flanking a teenage girl. Her head hangs limp, and she walks without protest, but she grits her teeth and clenches her fists. _The rebellious type, huh?_ They always tried to hide their fury, but it’s to mask that kind of attitude.

Iwaizumi was the rebellious type, the type to fight tooth and nail. He knows it from how he had tried to run when the Juvies came for him, but he would have known it even if he didn’t see that, because he knows Iwaizumi. _He’s probably still fighting now, in his own stubborn way._

Well, Oikawa’s fighting, too. And he’s way more stubborn than Iwaizumi. Stubborn enough to sit and wait and watch a Juvey station for hours upon hours.

He sips his frappe as he waits.

The last few days have been unfairly boring. He’ll stay at a motel or hostel each night, and each day, he’ll spend watching. Unfortunately, those hours alone with himself alone haven’t done him much good.

He can’t stop thinking about his mom.

The way she looked at him, the whimpers that came from her throat, her plea for him to stay. Is she alright? Were the firemen able to reassure her? Does she know _he’s_ alright? Does she even care, after no doubt realizing what he did to her? She probably won’t ever be able to forgive him. Oikawa doesn’t blame her, if she hates him now. Those who don’t know him well find it easy to like him. But those who really know him find it even easier to hate him.

_Except for Iwa-chan. Iwa-chan could never hate me...could he?_

But that’s not true. Oikawa knows that anyone’s capable of hate. It just takes the right kind motivation.

 

 _“You are here because you_ chose _to be here. You chose this path for yourself, because you are smart thinkers! Thinkers of the future! And in the future, we will need sharp minds like yours to enact justice.”_

_The Head Juvey paces back and forth in front of the line of teenagers. Oikawa stands at attention in the very middle of the line, head held high, ready to meet the Head Juvey’s gaze when it falls on him. It never does._

_“That is why we chose you, the best of the best, to teach you to uphold the law of this land. You have chosen us, now we have chosen you.”_

_Each of them has been selected. More than two hundred applicants from Miyagi applied to be a part of this summer’s Junior Juvey Training Camp. After countless applications, short answer questions, interviews, and physical exams, forty of them were chosen. No one - including himself - was surprised he made it here. It was a taxing process, but Oikawa knows that the true struggle has only just begun._

_“You will be privileged to knowledge your other peers would kill to have. You will_ not _abuse this knowledge, or the power bestowed upon you once you have passed, or your powers and knowledge will be revoked.”_

_Oikawa hears someone next to him whisper, “How can they take away your knowledge?”_

_Another whispers back, “How do you think?”_

_Oikawa shoots them a stern glare, and they fall silent._

_“Training will not be easy. You will have to push your mind and your body beyond their limits each and every day. There will be no slacking, or you shall face consequences. We have chosen to spend our money and our time training you - in return, we expect results.”_

_Strangely, the camp takes place outside. They will sleep in cabins, and receive lectures in a classroom, but the rest of their activities will take place in the outdoors, among the trees of the forest. Supposedly, it ‘builds character.’_

_The sun beats down on their necks, and Oikawa already feels beads of sweat crawling down his spine._ ‘Builds character’ my ass. Whoever thought that was an idiot.

_“If you truly put forth your maximum effort, learning will hurt. But the rewards will be plentiful. That is the way of the world. Greatness can only be achieved through suffering.”_

_He goes on to explain their schedule for the next month. It’s boring administration stuff, but Oikawa listens attentively, as a top student should._

_The Head Juvey ends his address on a different note._

_“Out of everything I teach you today, this is the most important. Those who run from their civic duty do not deserve your sympathy. These AWOLs may look like you, or think like you, but - do_ not _forget this - they are not you. Unwinds have their place in our society, but AWOLs are the scum of the scum. They will manipulate you, they will thrash out like animals. That is what they are: animals. Wild animals that need to be put down. If you don’t watch your back, they will turn on you, and you will pay the price. That is why you must remember this: AWOLs are not one of us. Is that clear?”_

_Oikawa Tooru is who he is today because of unwinding. Because of the surgeons and the Juvey Cops who kept the system working. Being part of that system is the only way he knows how to pay them back; as good a doctor as he could have been, Oikawa has always been a physical person._

_The Head Juvey’s right. The moment the unwind order is signed, that person is no longer a person, but property of the nation. Going AWOL was as good as stealing that property. Going AWOL meant less parts for innocent people. Oikawa has taken it upon himself to defend those people. The keep the system working, enforce justice, because that is what unwinding is - justice. It has to be._

_“Yes sir!” an army of voices shouts. Oikawa’s voice, determined to be heard, rings above them all._

 

_Each day of the first week focuses on a different skill a Juvey cop needs - knowledge of weapons, how to track down an unwind, the technicalities of the unwind order. But every morning begins the same way: shooting practice._

_Oikawa has always been a good shot. He knows this, it’s where he stood out in the selection process. He likes starting his mornings on a good note._

_The first day, he dominates target practice. The only one who even comes close to his skill is a younger boy, with straight black hair and a permanent frown. Despite his relative success, he still appears frustrated._

_Oikawa takes pity on him._

_“You’re too tense.”_

_The boy looks up, and eyes him warily. Oikawa gives him a winning smile, and taps his shoulder._

_“Relax. Your shoulders are hard as rocks. The recoil will knock you back if you let it.”_

_The boy gives a sharp nod and lets his shoulders down. He points his gun towards the target,  unmoving._

_Oikawa jabs his stomach._

_The boy jumps back and snarls at him. “Oi - ”_

_“Remember to breathe,” Oikawa tells him. “Can’t catch an AWOL if you pass out.”_

_“I know that,” he grumbles stubbornly._

_Oikawa rolls his eyes. But this time, when he positions himself, Oikawa sees him taking long, deep breaths._

_“Good. Now shoot.”_

_He squeezes the trigger and the dart hits the bullseye._

_The boy jumps up. “I did it!” he shouts, and looks back at Oikawa proudly. He bows, and says, “Thank you, um…”_

_“Oikawa Tooru. And you?”_

_“Kageyama Tobio. Thank you, Oikawa-san.”_

_Oikawa preens. “You’re welcome, Tobio-chan,” he says._

_At the end of the first practice, and three bullseyes in a row, the shooting instructor tells him, “Exceptional, Oikawa, truly exceptional.” He humbly accepts the praise, secretly basking in it._

 

_As the days progress, Kageyama gains more attention from the instructors. He’s a quick learner, according to them._

_On the fourth day, during target practice, Kageyama hits six bullseyes in a row. Two more than Oikawa._

_“Incredible!” the shooting instructor says. “Your skill is unprecedented, Kageyama. You are truly a genius.”_

_“Thank you, ma’am.”_

_The boy accepts the praise and moves on, without giving Oikawa the slightest acknowledgement. No respectful head nod, no teasing ‘I beat you!’, no awkward shrug or beguiling smile. Not a single glance._

_He’s completely oblivious to the raging beast of envy that has Oikawa in its claws._

 

Pffft!

_The dart hits the ring just outside the bullseye._

_“Shit,” Oikawa curses. He reloads the gun and shoots again._

Pffft!

_“Shit!” Two rings off, now._

_This is the fourth night in a row he’s come out to practice alone. It isn’t technically allowed, but the rules don’t explicitly state he can’t, so Oikawa practices his shooting technique for hours after the other have gone to bed, with only the moon to keep him company._

_Oikawa clenches and unclenches his hands. They look pale in the moonlight, calloused and raw from use. A juncture on his trigger finger has started to bleed; the bandage he placed on it is already beginning to peel off._

_He pats it back down and keeps shooting._

_He has to beat Kageyama Tobio. Oikawa had been stupid enough to let give him advice, to help him get better, and that little shit had stolen everything out from under him. Oikawa was supposed to breeze through training with top marks, maybe not on everything, but definitely on shooting. He was going to become a Juvey straight out of high school, and rise in ranks quickly, so he could catch every AWOL who dared defy the law, who kept innocent people from being saved - he would be a hero._

_Kageyama was ruining that with his stupid genius skill. Against genius, hard work was futile. It wasn’t fair._

_But Oikawa didn’t care about fair - he cared about winning. So he came out here every night so he could win._

_“You should be in bed.”_

_Oikawa nearly jumps out of his skin. He whips around, and comes face to face with Ushijima Wakatoshi. He’s the one who dominates hand-to-hand combat, even against Kageyama. Oikawa doesn’t like him. There’s something off about his attitude._

_Oikawa steadies himself and stand his ground. “So should you,” he shoots back._

_Ushijima says, “I saw you get out of bed. I followed you.”_

_“I’m not sure whether to be flattered or whether I should turn this gun on you.”_

_Ushijima’s frown deepens. “But there is no tranquilizer in those bullets. It would not be effective.”_

_Oikawa rolls his eyes. “It’s about the gesture, Ushiwaka. You’re so dense.”_

_“I have been told that before,” Ushijima says. “Why are you out here?”_

_Oikawa tries to ignore him as he reloads his gun. He takes a few more shots, but finds he can’t focus with Ushijima looming over his shoulder._

_“Why are you still here?” he asks._

_“You haven’t answered my question.”_

_“I’m practicing. What does it look like?”_

_“You have time to practice during the day. You are already an excellent shot.”_

_“My, what praise from the great Ushiwaka~” he sings. Ushijima is undeterred. Oikawa isn’t sure if he’s just stubborn or if the sarcasm went over his head. He sighs. “Look. You wouldn’t get it, Mr. Top-of-Hand-to-Hand. I need to beat that Tobio-chan. I need to be the best. Not all of us can be geniuses - to be the best, I need extra practice.”_

_He sees Ushijima glance at his hands. Blood drips down in a line past his wrist. Oikawa self-consciously tucks his arms against his side._

_Finally, Ushijima says, “You’ll make an excellent Juvey Cop one day, Oikawa.”_

_Oikawa snarls. Who does this guy think he is? “Oh, I’m sorry, did I ask for your opinion? Wait, no, I didn’t.”_

_“I offered my opinion freely,” Ushijima states._

_Oikawa whines. He needs to get back to shooting - this guy is wasting precious minutes of his time. “This isn’t any of your business. Fuck off.”_

_Ushijima nods. “Very well.”_

_Oikawa watches him stalk off into the night. He gets about ten paces before he glances back and says, “I hope you know what you’re doing.”_

_Oikawa sticks out his tongue at him and shouts, “I know exactly what I’m doing!”_

_Because he does. Oikawa knows exactly what he’s doing._

 

_It’s been two weeks, and Oikawa has yet to overtake Kageyama._

_His record had increased from six to eight to nine to eleven bullseyes in a row, while Oikawa had achieved a meager seven._

_If it weren’t for Kageyama, he could be proud of that achievement. But Kageyama was there, so Oikawa had to work harder._

_And if his hands bled, well, it was as the Head Juvey said._

Greatness can only be achieved through suffering.

 

_After dinner he hears the announcement that changes everything._

_“Attention campers. Kageyama Tobio, as of ten thirty eight today, is a candidate for unwinding.”_

_Gasps sound throughout the dining tables. Oikawa nearly drops his cup._

_“He has run tried to run and has been declared AWOL. Your job: find him. Consider this an exercise in tracking. You are all free to use any methods you wish, provided - ”_

_Oikawa doesn’t know why the camp’s most promising student is being unwound, but he doesn’t care._

This is my chance. With Kageyama out of the way, _I_ will be the best.

_He’s the first out the door, tranq gun at his hip._

_It doesn’t take him long to find the boy. He’s hidden in the gun closet by the shooting range. Anyone could have found him easily, but Oikawa’s the first to get there. Funny, how a boy claimed to be so smart hid in such an obvious place._

_He steps into the gun closet and sees Kageyama’s figure curled up and quivering. Oikawa’s breath seizes. The tranq guns shakes at his side; it’s suddenly too heavy to lift._

_Because Oikawa_ knows _Kageyama. He knows how he eats meals alone, how he’s always the second one up every morning, how he excels in every subject but can’t work with a team for his life, and he_ knows _he’s not an animal, no matter what the Head Juvey’s said. He can’t see him as anything other than the sour-faced boy who thanked Oikawa for his help. A boy, a person, just like Oikawa -_

I have to do this - this is what I’m trained to do - I need to do this -

_On the first day, they called Oikawa “exceptional.”_

_On the fifth day, they called Kageyama Tobio a “genius.”_

_But now, this genius is at his mercy._

Take him out, and you will be on top.

_He forces himself to look the boy in the eye._

_Kageyama’s face is pale and wet with snot and tears, the redness around his wide eyes contrasting their bright blue color. His lip trembles and he whimpers softly, like an animal, terrified. His fear is a tangible thing, a dense mass of horror that rolls off of him in waves, crawling through the room and down Oikawa’s throat._

_Oikawa raises the tranq gun, pointing it at Kageyama’s thigh. The boy gasps._

_His hands puts his hands out in surrender, but they’re shaking. “P-p-please,” he warbles._

_That single word strikes down any semblance of composure he had. Now Oikawa’s crying, too. The fear stabs at his chest and clenches his throat, but his hand moves of its own accord._

_He pulls the trigger._

 

 _The moment Oikawa steps out of the closet, he throws up. He doesn’t know why - no, he_ does _know why, he just doesn’t want to admit it._

_His head swims, and he has to lean against the closet to keep himself upright. His hands are shaking, a fresh new stream of blood soaks his new bandages._

_It was one thing to shoot a target._

_It was another thing to shoot a person. Even if that person was his greatest rival._

What did I do what did I do what did I do -

_Oikawa doesn’t like Kageyama by any means, but to know that it was by his hand Kageyama would be sent to harvest camp - dismembered - sickens him._

_Would he have done it if not for some petty feud? No. He wouldn’t have. He would have seen the boy’s face and let him go. This was his own emotions taking control, it was envy guiding his hand that pulled the trigger._

_But that was what he was_ supposed _to do. This is what he trained for. He did the right thing, so why did he feel so guilty?_

_In that moment, outside the gun closet with the stench of vomit wafting through the air, he has two realizations._

_The first: his emotions have a tighter hold on him than his rationality._

_The second: he can’t shoot a person ever again. Out in the field, he won’t be able to point his gun at another teenager and fire. He isn’t fit to be a Juvey Cop._

_Disappointed in himself, Oikawa drops his gun and leaves the shooting range. He tells the authorities where Kageyama is. Then he gathers his things and leaves camp, giving no explanation to his actions._

 

_He left a piece of himself behind, that night. His dream of becoming a Juvey Cop was dead, because he didn’t have the fucking stomach for it. How pathetic._

_He was disappointed in himself for failing. Yet, even more than that, he was disappointed at his own sense of relief._

 

That’s why he never told Iwaizumi about what happened at the camp. Iwaizumi would either think his actions were heroic, like the others did, and scold him for feeling bad about it, or he would be horrified Oikawa would do that in the first place. Now that he’s in the same position as Kageyama, Oikawa’s betting on the latter. Would that be enough to make Iwaizumi hate him?

It’s enough to make Oikawa hate himself.

He should have been stronger. He should have stayed in training. He shouldn’t have let his jealousy influence his actions.

A flash of red catches his eyes. Oikawa looks up. Another group of Juvies enters the station. None of the faces are familiar. Oikawa reaches for a sip of his drink, only to remember he finished it off a long time ago.

It’s already one, and still, no sign of Ushijima or that annoying partner of his. He’s frustrated, he knew Ushijima had to work at a station somewhere around here. If he was assigned to pick Iwaizumi up then he could only be so far away. This station is larger than the last two Oikawa went to; surely they have room for Junior Juvies?

“Sir, I’m afraid we’re going to ask you to leave.”

Oikawa sighs. Just what he needs right now.

He turns to face the serving bot. It’s round and white, shaped like an egg, and comes up just past table height. It has a screen for a face, the words that it just generated scrolling across the screen. Oikawa frowns at the bot. Larger chains like McDonald’s have begun to adopt them, along with ordering terminals, in order to completely automate their restaurants. In the long term, it’s cheaper than paying actual people. Oikawa misses the human interaction; he can’t charm a robot.

“We can only seat paying customers,” the bot’s perky automated voice chimes.

Oikawa looks at the cup, and then breaks into a smile. “Oh! I’m so sorry causing trouble for you. I was actually just about to order lunch! I’m still a paying customer.”

“What would you like to order?”

He gives the bot his lunch order and it wheels away, leaving Oikawa to resume his spying. Hopefully the meal will buy him a few more hours of reconnaissance.

While he’s waiting for his chicken tenders, he spots another Juvey walking down the street towards the station. This one looks younger than the rest - looks even younger than him, with light hair and a sour expression.

Oikawa recognizes him - he was the one accompanying Ushijima when he took Iwaizumi away. He jumps up from his table and flies out the door, pushing some kid lingering by the entrance out of the way. He can’t be bothered to say sorry - his mind has one focus now.

The Junior Juvey he recognizes crosses the parking lot and walks inside the double-doors of the station, and Oikawa catches up to him. Right before he walks through the doors, Oikawa yanks him back.

The kid turns around to face him and scowls. “Who the hell - ”

“I need to speak with Ushijima. Get him for me,” Oikawa demands.

He eyes Oikawa up and down. “Why would I do that?” he asks, crossing his arms.

 _Brat._ “Just do it. Tell him Oikawa Tooru is here to talk to him.”

He looks at him for a moment longer, and then his eyes widen in recognition.

“Fine. Follow me.”

They walk inside, and the Junior Juvey instructs him to wait in the front. This office, unlike the other ones he had been to, is booming with activity. The man at the front desk is busy on a call, a conference room is in full session, countless Juvies dance around the main space. Only the holding cell isn’t bustling with activity.

Sitting in the cell, alone, is the girl from earlier, the one he pinned as rebellious. Only now, she doesn’t look so rebellious. Tear streaks line her flushed cheeks, and her eyes are rimmed with red. She’s chewed her lip raw, and he can hear her sniffling from here. The taste of salt floods his mouth. Because now he understands why she looked tense; and it wasn’t because she was rebellious. It was because she was afraid.

_That’s what Tobio-chan looked like._

“Oikawa. Shirabu told me you were here to see me.”

Oikawa looks up. Ushijima stands in front of him, his hands on his hips.

His heart pounds loudly in his chest.

“I am,” he says evenly.

“Why?” Ushijima asks.

“I think you know.”

Maybe Ushijima isn’t as dense as he thought, because he nods and beckons Oikawa to stand up. “Very well. Come with me.”

Ushijima walks him through the station, navigating through the sea navy and red, past the crying girl in the holding cell, and brings him out the back. He closes the door behind them, abruptly cutting off the noise from inside.

Immediately, Oikawa grabs Ushijima by the collar and shoves him against the wall. “Where is he?” Oikawa demands. “Where is Iwaizumi? Which harvest camp was he sent to?”

“I am not privileged to that information,” Ushijima tells him.

Oikawa bristles. “Then find out - ”

“Fortunately, I do know that he did not make it to whichever harvest camp he was meant to go  to.”

Oikawa opens his mouth to protest, when the words process. His grip on Ushijima slackens. “Wait. What - ”

“Iwaizumi Hajime escaped from our hold. He has been declared AWOL.”

Oikawa steps back in shock. He was prepared to have to rescue Iwaizumi from harvest camp, he was prepared to hear the worst about him, but this, and the casual way Ushijima says it, takes him by surprise. “How…?”

Ushijima steps away from the wall, and smooths out his outfit, as casually as if Oikawa hadn’t just assaulted him. “If you recall, I told you how, when he took Iwaizumi away.”

He’s thrown back into his memory of the day Iwaizumi was taken.

 

_“Hajime..!”_

_“Tooru!” Iwaizumi yells back, struggling against the men trying to shove him in the car, “I’m going to get out of here - and I’m gonna find you - wait for me!”_

_“I will!” Oikawa promises._

_Iwaizumi gives him a nod, and stops fighting. He lets the cops push in into the car._

_Ushijima comes up to Oikawa. Ushijima Wakatoshi. What an awful name. Fitting for an awful person._

_Ushijima looks at him and says, without batting an eye. “You should have become a Juvey-cop.”_

_Then he leans in and whispers something into Oikawa’s ear._

_“Then you could have saved him.”_

 

It takes a full minute of deduction on Oikawa’s part to finally understand what Ushijima meant. He could have saved him if he was a Junior Juvey because then he could have been on the inside - like Ushijima was. No wonder his attitude seemed so off during training camp - Ushijima was a rebel working from the inside. Saving unwinds - like Iwaizumi - before they were taken to harvest camp.

Oikawa could have been a part of that if he had stayed.

“ _That’s_ what you meant?!” he bursts. He walks around in a frustrated circle. “You fucking - oh my _god_ , why the hell wouldn’t you just _tell_ me - ”

“That would be against Shiratorizawa’s policy,” Ushijima interrupts.

“Shiratorizawa?"

"That's the organization that's helping you. The anti-unwinding organization that takes on the Juvey Cops from the inside. Shirabu and I work for them, but there's dozens besides us, all throughout Japan. I wished to reassure you of his safety, but our mission is secret. Especially from those loyal to the unwinding institution.”

He’s furious at Ushijima, for keeping this from him, for telling him now, for being right. But it doesn’t matter, he doesn’t even care, because Iwaizumi’s safe. He was - hopefully, still - far, far away from harvest camp. It takes a tremendous weight off his shoulders.

Iwaizumi’s safe. Now all Oikawa needs to do his find him.

He steadies himself, evens out his breath, and clenches his shaking fists by his side. Then he turns back to Ushijima. “Tell me where he is.”

Ushijima shakes his head. “I can’t. Only members of Shiratorizawa can have access to this information - ”

 _“Tell me where he is,”_ Oikawa demands, nearly spitting in his face.

Ushijima’s lips curl and his nostrils flair. It’s the most emotion Oikawa has seen him show yet. “Why should I trust you? You’re the one turned in that boy.”

The comment jabs him like the point of a tranq dart. Because he’s right.

“You shouldn’t,” Oikawa tells him. It’s true, he has no evidence for Ushijima that he’s trustworthy. “But whether you tell me or not, I _will_ find Hajime, and I will find out your secrets. So it’s only a matter of time. You can tell me where he is now, or I will find out myself.”

Ushijima frowns. Then he hands Oikawa a slip of paper no bigger than his thumb.

“This is all I can tell you. Burn it once you’ve read it.”

Oikawa snatches the piece of paper and holds it close. This is the paper is the key to finding Iwaizumi.

_Iwa-chan, I’m almost there._

Ushijima clears his throat. Oikawa stuffs the paper deep in his pocket. “You should leave now. Or the other cops will start asking questions. I’ll lead you out the front.”

While they trek back through the station, he debates on whether or not to thank Ushijima. Even though he gave him a way to find his boyfriend, he had also been the one to take him away in the first place.

They reach the door. Ushijima holds it open for him.

“Thanks…” he mutters anyway.

Ushijima nods respectfully. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” he says, an echo of his last words to Oikawa at training camp.

This time, Oikawa can’t give him an answer.

He walks out the door and into the parking lot, hand tapping over the slip of paper in his pocket. He has a new mission now, he has to make plans and -

“Hey! What’s going on out here?”

His gaze is drawn to the noise. Two teenagers, eyes red with tears, look on in fear at the Juvey rapidly approaching them. Oikawa knows the look in their eyes - they’re unwinds.

They’re unwinds, and they’re about to by captured by the Juvies.

 

**xxiii. Yamaguchi Tadashi**

_(Oct. 2)_

For as long as he can remember, Yamaguchi Tadashi has loved french fries. Not just any french fries - the soggy ones, the ones that sit at the bottom of the bag, the ones that droop, heavy with grease and salt, soft and delicious. Though every fast food chain has their fair share of french fries - Yamaguchi isn’t picky - the best soggy french fries come from McDonald’s. He never passes up the opportunity to eat McDonald’s french fries, and there has never been a time when they have failed to make him even the tiniest bit happier.

 _Then this,_ he supposes, _will be the first._ Not even the promise of french fries could pull in out of the wave of confusion and anxiety and guilt that had washed over him.

He can’t seem to enjoy anything anymore. Not food, not Tsukki. He doesn’t let his anger or his fear get to him either. He’s afraid to feel anything at all, so he pushes his emotions down in the pocket where his stuffs the unanswerable questions and unthinkable thoughts, the ones plagued with unwinding and tithing and AWOLs and rebels, Suga and Karasuno and Akiteru and Tsukki and all the other tithes out there exactly like him, but not like him, because at least they know what to believe, whether to accept their fate or not. And the thoughts that don’t relate unwinding quickly succumb to it because how can he think about anything else when he still doesn’t know right from wrong?

But even worse is the guilt. Now matter how far away Yamaguchi get from his old life, the voices of his parents reminding him of his duty, of his purpose in life. Society that preaches of the goodness of tithes, their compassion, selflessness, and sacrifice. His skin grows itchy under the colorful tanktops Tsukki lends him, ashamed for abandoning his tithing greens.

The worst are the voices from his dreams. They keep coming back in his nightmares every time he closes his eyes, causing him to lose sleep. They bombard his ears day and night, pleading him to help them.

He just wants it to stop. He’s afraid of the onslaught of questions and the guilt that keeps building up and threatening to flood out; he’s afraid there’s nothing he can do to stop it besides let himself drown.

His chance to save himself from the flood comes in the same form as his reprieve usually does: a golden arch.

Tsukki follows through on his promise and brings them to McDonald’s the very next day. It’s not the promise of McDonald’s that will save him, though. It’s the Juvey station across the street.

Tsukki had slipped up; he never would have brought them here if he knew there was a Juvey Station so close by. Yamaguchi’s not sure if it’s Tsukki’s ignorance, hope, or kindness that brought him this opportunity, but in the end, it doesn’t matter. They are different means to the same end.

The Juvey station is large. The big double-doors make it almost inviting. He glances at the ad in swirling colors above the door.

_“Sometimes the sum of the parts is greater than the whole!”_

He can’t quite believe it, but he wishes he could. It’d be a nice thought to have in mind as he turns himself over to the Juvies to be unwound.

Yamaguchi pretends not to stare as Tsukki pulls him inside the McDonald’s.

Against the far wall, four lines form in front of the four ordering terminals. Tsukki pulls them behind the first line, and the wait while the other customers type in their orders.

“What do you want?” Tsukki asks him.

Yamaguchi shrugs.

Tsukki curls his lip like he’s tasted something bitter. Yamaguchi used to be ashamed whenever Tsukki pulled that face on him. Maybe he still is a little bit, but he can’t bring himself to care. What does it matter what his best friend thinks of him when he won’t be around to remember?

“I’m going to get you a teriyaki Mcburger. And a large fries on the side.”

“Fine.”

Tsukki stares at him for a moment, unsatisfied by his answer, waiting for him to say something else. “...fine,” he says eventually.

Yamaguchi’s gaze drifts over to the station. A Junior Juvey walks nonchalantly through the double doors - they don’t seem much older than him.

Briefly, he wonders what his life would have been like if he’d been a Junior Juvey rather than a tithe. He still would have been subjected to the same propaganda about the benefits of unwinding and terror of AWOLs. But then, at least, he’d be sending other people to harvest camp instead of himself.

The thought is almost laughable. Yamaguchi knows he would have made a shit Juvey.

He gently pushes the thought away. No point wondering about the inevitable. Not anymore.

“Hey Tsukki,” Yamaguchi says once they get to the ordering station. “I’m going to go to the bathroom while you order.”

Tsukki glances at the ordering terminal and then back at him. “...okay. Be quick.”

Yamaguchi tries to smile. “Okay.”

Once Tsukki’s back in turned, he wanders towards the door.

_This is it. This is my chance to make everything stop._

His hand is on the door, ready to push it open, when something stops him. A tug, deep in his gut, pulling him back, forcing him to look back at Tsukki one last time.

His head is bowed in front of the terminal, blonde hairs curling against his sunburnt neck. His long fingers tap against the screen of the terminal aggressively.

Should he say good-bye? Surely he should say something. He wants to say _something_ , but if he does, then Tsukki would try to stop him, and then -

_Wham!_

Someone bashes against his shoulder and he’s flung to the ground. He catches a glimpse of chestnut hair before his face smacks the floor. He can’t help but cry out in surprise and pain.

Tsukki’s at his side in an instant. But the look on his face isn’t one of concern. His brows are furrowed in anger, his nose crunched in a snarl. He yanks Yamaguchi to his feet, keeping a firm grip on his bicep.

“I thought you said you wouldn’t try to run!” he says, nearly at a shout.

All the people in the restaurant turn to them. Their stares send Yamaguchi’s skin crawling, as he tries to wriggle out of Tsukki’s grasp. But his grip is iron.

“Tsukki - let go - ”

“No!” Tsukki shouts.

Yamaguchi grits his teeth together. Then he brings his leg up and knees Tsukki in the balls, hard.

Tsukki cries out and his grip relaxes just enough for Yamaguchi to maneuver out of it. He snatches his arm away and pitches himself out the door, trying for a home run into the station.

An arm yanks him back right as he passes through the gate. He stumbles backward and trips over himself, bringing Tsukki down with him.

He rolls off of Tsukki and begins to crawl towards the double doors. Even this close, they loom impossibly high.

He needs to get there.

A hand wraps around his foot. Yamaguchi kicks up and meets a chin. Behind him, Tsukki grunts, but Yamaguchi keeps moving. The scraping of shoes against asphalt gives him a warning to move faster, but before he can stand up, Tsukki tackles him to the ground, arms around his waist.

Yamaguchi tries to struggle but this time Tsukki has him pinned. He cries out in frustration.

_Why? I’m so close! So close…_

Tsukki holds him down until he runs out of energy and stops moving. All the time, the double doors are within his sight, but out of his reach.

He’s panting, and his knees are hurting from when they hit the ground, and his hips ache from where Tsukki sits on him. For the second time since their journey began, Yamaguchi surrenders in a limp pile of limbs.

Tsukki turns him over on his back, so they’re nearly chest to chest. He’s surprised to see tears in his eyes.

“You were just going to walk out of here?” he says, voice strained. “After everything? Without even saying goodbye…?”

And it hurts - it hurts like nothing else has before, not the aching in his knees or the pain of leaving his family or the questions drowning him.

“Tsukki, please, I - I - ”

“Why?!” Tsukki shouts. “Why do you want to do it…”

His face gets hotter and hotter and the weight in his stomach tumbles like a whirlwind and the pocket full of questions and feelings bulges, ready to burst.

Yamaguchi lets it.

“Because I _have_ to!” he shouts. “I’m so confused by everything I’ve seen, and nothing makes sense! I don’t know what to think anymore, about unwinding and AWOLs and harvest camp….it hurts my head to think about it and every time I do, every time I think that maybe unwinding isn’t such a good thing, it’s – it’s like – I feel so _guilty_ , Tsukki…!”

Tsukki looks down at him with every emotion Yamaguchi didn’t know he had written across his face. It makes him angry and ashamed and glad that finally, _finally,_ he gets it, and he lets those feelings ooze out his pores in tears and sweat and snot.

“I w-wanted - _want_ \- to be unwound!” Tears well up and cloud his vision but Yamaguchi keeps yelling. “I was ready for it! I’ve been prepared my w-whole _life_ for this, and I accepted it, embraced it, because I’ll be h-helping people...I wore tithing greens every single day. Do you have any idea what it’s like to wear tithing greens? To be singled out, whether you want to be or not? To be reminded, every time you put them on, that you have a duty to fulfill?”

He looks directly at Tsukki, but his best friend won’t look back at him.

“I thought I was happy to fulfill that duty…I wanted to, I was grateful for the opportunity to help others, in – in _awe_ of the unwinding system for improving so many lives….but now I’ve seen things. We passed the memoratorium, with Akiteru. There was nearly a hundred other headstones there, and I thought, if someone cared enough about these people to make them a memorium, then why were they unwound? I thought unwinding only happened to bad kids, the ones who didn’t care about anyone and no one cared about them, but the Karasuno boys aren’t bad. Akiteru wasn’t bad. I think unwinding is good - it helps people, it really does - but if it tears people away from their lives...I don’t think that’s very good either.

“And now I don’t know what to think anymore. Is unwinding good, or bad? Is the unwind system even any good? Suga said that he was an AWOL because his parents couldn’t revoke their consent to have him unwound. It was an accident, but he’s not like me, he doesn’t want to be unwound. What about tithing? Tithing’s still a good thing, since I want to be tithed, right?”

He grabs Tsukki’s wrist tightly, forcing Tsukki to give him his attention. _I need you to hear this – I need you to look at me._ “But what if you were right, what if it’s all just bullshit? I have so many questions and I’m so confused. My head hurts, Tsukki, I can’t figure out right from wrong anymore and I don’t know how I can, I don’t know if I want to, because that means I’ve been living a lie for all my life or, or that all this is _pointless_ , all the people we met shouldn’t be whole, and the memoriums aren’t really graves even though they’re in a graveyard. And - and - it scares me because I d-don’t know which is worse.”

He pulls himself up, on shaking arms and trembling hands, so he and Tsukki are face to face. He grips Tsukki’s shoulders because if he doesn’t ground himself, he’s going to fly away.

“But I can’t let myself be selfish,” he says. A new wave of fear washes over him, overwhelms him, sends him into a fit of tears. “J-j-just because I’m c-confused shouldn’t mean others have to suffer….you  - you asked why I w-want be unwound, after, after all of that? Right now, there is only one thing I know to be true, and that’s if I’m u-unwound, I’ll be h-helping people.”

He buries his face into Tsukki’s shoulder, curling his fingers tight into his shirt. Tsukki snakes on arm around him and Yamaguchi leans into it.  

“I w-want to help people...I want to do this…”

He can’t see the double doors now, but they still call to him, almost as loud as the bodiless faces in his dream do.

_“Yamaguchi.”_

_“Tadashi.”_

_“Yama-san!”_

_“Tadashi!”_

“Tadashi.”

Tsukki’s voice speaks louder than the rest. The calming resonance of his voice brings him back.

“Do you really want to be unwound?” Tsukki whispers against his ear. “Is that what _you_ really want?”

He thinks of what Suga told him.

 _Think about what you want. Not what your parents want. Not what society wants. Not even what Tsukki wants. Your life is your own, and you don’t owe anybody anything_.

If he was unwound, if he walked into those double doors, this would be over. The voices screaming in his head – his parents, society, the bodiless faces – would finally stop. He’d no longer be confused. He would finally fulfill his duty.

But everything else would stop, too. Living like this, as himself, making mistakes and experiencing emotions and meeting new people. He’d never get to figure out this mess that was going on his head - he’d be permanently ignorant - and that’s almost more terrifying than knowing.

He’d probably never see Tsukki again. Which is scarier than anything else.

“I don’t know,” Yamaguchi admits. “I want to turn myself in, to be useful and fulfill my purpose, but I’m - ”

His throat seizes up, hands of the needy wrapping around his neck.

“I’m t-t- _terrified_ to leave this life behind.” The weight in his stomach, sitting and simmering since a long, long time ago, is fear. The moment he admits it, it dissipates. With the weight off his chest, Yamaguchi can finally breathe. “I have a purpose to fulfill, but I’m afraid! I’m afraid of not knowing what to think. I’m afraid to be unwound. I’m afraid of what comes after. I’m scared, I’m so scared...I don’t want to be tithed...it’s s-selfish, it’s so _selfish_ , but - but - ”

Tsukki untangles one of Yamaguchi’s hands from his shirt and grips it tightly with his own. He stares into Yamaguchi’s eyes, and as embarrassed as he is by the sorry state of his appearance, he can’t look away.

“Then be selfish,” Tsukki asks. No - _demands_. “Please...let yourself be selfish. If you’re unwound...you’ll never get to see me again.”

“I…”

He thinks of his parents, who, despite signing the tithing form, loved him with everything they had, cared for him and nurtured him every day for nearly fourteen years. Would he forget their faces once his brain was separated by the lobe?

He thinks of school, of the few friends he had and the few teachers he liked, of all the friends he could have had and all the things he could have learned. Of the volleyball club he might have joined with Tsukki had he not known he’d never get to play a game. He might not ever play in a real game in his lifetime, but if he’s unwound, he’ll _definitely_ never get to.

He thinks of Karasuno, of the happy faces and friendships that fostered between the boys determined to stay whole. They lived, they had a purpose, they strived to do great things with those years they had stolen.

He thinks of McDonald’s french fries. He can still smell them from here. He’d never get to eat them again, pick them up with his own hands and feel their salty goodness on his own tongue.

He thinks of kiss he gifted to Tsukki. About the thrill it had give him. If he walks through those doors, he’ll never get to do that again. He’ll never get to chance to see if it could lead to anything more. Could it lead to anything more?

Yamaguchi kind of wants to stick around to find out.

The guilt is awful, the guilt is eating him alive, but maybe, if he has Tsukki by his side, he can learn to live with it.

 _This is my life._ I _get to decide what to do with it._

“I...I think - ”

“Hey! What’s going on out here?”

He and Tsukki whip their heads to the source of the noise.

Yamaguchi’s stomach drops. _Oh shit..._

There’s a Juvey cop walking straight for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)


	9. Dare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Juvey cop just wants to enjoy his break in peace. Oikawa Tooru momentarily adopts two children. Iwaizumi Hajime is good for more than just his muscles, he promises. Akaashi Keiji is a secret lover of cuddles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’M SORRY IT’S BEEN SO LONG AND I LEFT YOU ON A CLIFFHANGER THAT WAS NOT MY INTENTION i want to say it was school keeping me busy (which, i mean. It was) but mostly writing this chapter was like shitting a brick
> 
> Other updates on my life:  
> i’ve been ranting about unwind to my mom for literal years and she finally just read it, and she said it was her favorite ya novel since hp!! I got to discuss it with her and that made me so happy!! 
> 
> Chapter 244?? Gave me life...i love bo and akaashi’s relationship so much…
> 
> For those of you who’ve read the unwind series, [the future of the unwind universe is becoming even closer to reality](http://ucsdnews.ucsd.edu/feature/how_3d_printing_could_one_day_save_lives?utm_campaign=thisweek&utm_medium=email&utm_source=tw-2017-03-02)

**xxiv. Juvey-Cop**

_(Oct. 2)_

The Juvey-cop spots the two teens right when he steps out for his break.

 _Of-fucking-course._ It just _had_ to be during his break.

They’re loitering in the parking lot, some brunette kid with freckles and blonde kid with glasses, of all things. At first they look like they’re fighting, but now that he looks closer, the Juvey can see that they’re crying.

Two crying teenagers outside a Juvey station. It’s not like it hasn’t happened before. After ten years of service, the Juvey’s seen just about everything.

They could be anti-unwind protesters. They could be complaining about a lost friend. They could be Junior Juvey candidates. Or they could be AWOLs. In which case, he needs to intervene.

The Juvey shuffles towards them, still disappointed about missing his break. _Better make this quick._ “Hey! What’s going on out here?” he shouts. The boys jump and turn his way. He quickens his pace, ready to catch them if they try and run.

Before he can reach them, someone bursts past him, knocking him to the side. “Hey - ”

“Yuto-chan! There you are!”

The Juvey straightens himself out, ready to reprimand the aggressor. But the person, another teen with weirdly perfect hair, has an arm wrapped around the shorter brunette. He pats his head lovingly, and the shorter boy squirms beneath him.

“Ugh! I know it’s hard, but you can’t just run out like that! You made your big brother so worried!” Perfect Hair says.

The freckled boy - Yuto? - guiltily flickers his eyes back and forth between his brother and the ground. “Uh...sorry...big brother.”

Perfect Hair shoots the Juvey a blinding smile. The Juvey places his hand on his belt, right above his tranq gun.

Perfect Hair turns to Glasses, pout on his face. “You should have kept a better eye on Yuto-chan, best friend-chan.”

Glasses curls his lip in annoyance. “I have a name.”

“Best friends that don’t fulfill their best friend duties don’t deserve to be named.” Perfect Hair sticks out his tongue, cementing his point.

The Juvey interrupts before they can bicker any longer. “What’s going on here?” he asks Perfect Hair. Might as well get straight to the point. He doesn’t want to deal with this overly protective brother for longer than he has to.

“I’m sorry if my brother and his friend caused you any trouble, officer,” Perfect Hair says. The Juvey watches his grip on his little brother tighten, and the little brother whimpers. “He’s just upset because - well, because...” Perfect Hair leans in close to officer, and whispers, “...our sister was just taken to harvest camp. He’s taking it pretty hard. We just wanted to check if she had arrived safely at camp yet.”

He leans out again, attending to his brother and shooting glares at Glasses. The story sounds reasonable. He’s heard it before. Hell, when his own older brother had been unwound, he’d come to check at the Juvey station to make sure he got to harvest camp. The circumstances were different, of course. The Juvey didn’t care about his brother’s safety - he only wanted to be sure that abusive bastard was broken into pieces.

If Perfect Hair was telling the truth, then that would make this ordeal so much easier. The Juvey wants to believe it’s the truth, if only to get this over with.

“I see. Is that all you were doing?” the Juvey asks.

“Of course!” Oikawa assures. “Ask Ushiwa - Ushijima-san.”

The Juvey nods. Ushijima one of the few reliable Junior Juvies at their station. He trusts he dealt with these boys accordingly.

Relatively satisfied with their story, the Juvey gives them an understanding nod. “I will. Now, you boys should move along. No loitering in front of the station - it’s not safe.”

Perfect Hair bows dramatically. “Yes officer sir!” he exclaims, bent over. He elbows his brother in the knee, and the boy and his friend bow, too. Then Perfect Hair straightens up, grabs his brother and Glasses’s hands, and starts to pull them away. “Come on boys, let’s leave the nice man to do his work,” he mutters.

The little brother sniffles again, and wipes his nose on his arm. Glasses pats him on the back robotically. And Perfect Hair drags them away.

_Good riddance._

The Juvey lets out a sigh. Something about their behavior seemed suspicious. But then again, most teenagers seemed suspicious to him. All Juvies develop a distrust of teenagers over time - it comes with the job - but he suspects his started a long time ago. He can thank his brother for that.

He watches the trio round the street corner. They’re probably telling the truth. The older brother had walked out of the Juvey station; he knew Ushijima.

He’s probably just being paranoid again. They were probably just a bunch of regular kids.

With that in mind, he walks across the street into McDonald’s, ready to enjoy his well deserved break.

 

**xxv. Oikawa Tooru**

_(Oct. 2)_

As soon as they’re out of the Juvey cop’s sight, he pulls them into an alleyway behind McDonald’s, heart still pounding. Oikawa hopes the boys don’t notice his hands shaking.

Yet, he’s not nearly as anxious as the first time he had lied to a Juvey’s face; he’s already calming down, too.

God, he hopes he doesn’t make a habit out of this.

It wasn’t his business. It was just a Juvey cop doing his job, apprehending unwinds, Oikawa had no place interfering. But he did anyway.

There had been a feeling in his gut already building up the anticipation of guilt and fear and shame, and Oikawa knew that feeling all too well. He knew that if he just walked away, and lets those kids be taken into the Juvey station, those feelings would grow and overwhelm him. Just like they had when he walked away from his mother. Just like they had when he shot Kageyama.

 

He supports the system, he really does, but he’s finding it harder and harder to do so when the evidence he’s denied is so persistent. He’s felt what it’s like to have cuffs locked around his wrists. He knows that not all unwinds deserve to be taken to harvest camp.

Sheer panic pushed him into action. The feeling in his gut threatened him like a knife to his throat, ready to slash him open for all the world to see.

Oikawa doesn’t know the reason behind those feelings, why they motivated him to do it. Maybe it was the same reason he’s going after Iwaizumi. Or maybe it was the same reason he left training camp.

Whatever it is, it’s brought him towards trouble. In the form of two pubescent boys.

The moment they’re out of sight, Oikawa released their hands and leans against the wall.

“I can’t believe that worked,” he says.

“Neither can I…” the freckled kid, ‘Yuto-chan,’ says.

He takes a moment to look at the two boys - to truly look at them. They’re thin, faces oily and peeling, like they’d spent too long in the sun. The blonde one keeps his eyes locked on Yuto-chan, but Yuto-chan just stares at the ground. His eyes are still rimmed with red.

“Please tell me you’re AWOLs and I didn’t do that for nothing,” Oikawa says.

Blondie - who’s somehow nearly as tall as Oikawa, what the fuck - steps protectively between Yuto-chan and and Oikawa. “Who the fuck are you? And why did you do...that…”

Oikawa doesn’t like this kid’s attitude. He straightens his posture, nose up, trying to laud what little height he has on Blondie over him. “Oikawa Tooru. I was trying to save you from being unwound? What did it look like?”

Blondie narrows his eyes, and somehow it feels like he’s looking down on Oikawa even though he knows he’s shorter. “You just walked out of a Juvey station. You said you knew a cop in there.”

“I - I’m...a member of Shiratorizawa.” The words slip out before he can think, but they don’t sit well in his mouth. He, Oikawa Tooru, part of an anti-unwind organization?

Then again, he had just stolen these two from under the nose of a Juvey cop. Hell, he was planning to find Iwaizumi anyway.

“Shiratori…?”

“A secret organization,” Oikawa explains. “A secret anti-unwinding organization. They – we – spy from the inside. I probably shouldn’t be telling you, but you’re pretty insistent. ”

Blondie quirks an eyebrow. “Never heard of them.”

“That’s the idea. Secret organization and all.”

Yuto-chan, quiet up until now, tugs on Blondie’s sleeve. “Tsukki, he did get us out of this mess…” he mumbles.

Blondie - Tsukki, what a cute nickname for someone who was _not cute at all_ \- scoffs. “It wouldn’t have mattered anyway. You’re not even fourteen yet, they couldn’t have taken you.”

“What.” _Not even fourteen yet, they couldn’t have taken you._ “Were either of you in any danger?”

“No.”

“So you’re telling me I did that for nothing?!” Oikawa shouts.

“Yes.”

His mouth drops open. This was pointless? They weren’t in danger? “Then why did you go along with it!?”

Tsukki smirks. “Didn’t want to make you look stupid.”

Oikawa has half a mind to go back to the station just to turn this annoying shit in, but before he can say anything Yuto-chan steps in.

“Wait, wait - Tsukki’s not wrong, but. You did help us out, so...thank you, Oikawa-san.”

Oikawa pats his head affectionately, sending a glare Tsukki’s way. “Thank you for your manners, Yuto-chan.”

The freckled boy laughs. “Actually, my name’s Yamaguchi. Nice to meet you...although, I guess it’s a little late for introductions.”

“It’s never too late for introductions!” Oikawa says. “Nor is it too late to explain why you were hanging out in front of a Juvey station~” Oikawa admits he’s a little bit curious. What were they doing in front of a Juvey station? Why had Yamaguchi been crying? Why is Tsukki such an asshole? Just who are these boys?

Yamaguchi pales, and scratches his neck. “Oh. Um...it’s...a long story.”

Oikawa waits for him to elaborate. When he doesn’t, Oikawa asks, “How long?”

“Too long to explain right now,” Tsukki says pointedly.

Oikawa glares at him. Tsukki glares back, through those stupid fucking glasses. Glasses - he can’t believe it. Who wears glasses anymore?

He realizes that he’s not going to get any more out of them. “Fine. I don’t have time to listen, anyway. Now that you guys are safe - ” he looks at Tsukki, “- safer than before - I should leave.” Oikawa pats the paper in his pocket. “I’m on my way to a secret base.”

“Oh, you mean Karasuno?” Yamaguchi says.

Oikawa has never heard of ‘Karasuno’ before, but his curiosity is piqued. A real secret base? That sounds like something worthy of investigating. “Yes, exactly. You know of them?”

Yamaguchi nods. “We just came from there.”

“Did you?” he asks.

“Yeah, they were really...nice. It was an accident we found them, but...I’m glad we did.” The nostalgic look on Yamaguchi’s faces makes Oikawa thinks there’s more to this story, but he doesn’t press him. “We were lucky to run into them really, Mt. Taihaku is pretty big and we were really lost - ”

“Yamaguchi, I don’t trust him,” Tsukki interrupts.

Oikawa tucks the information away for later. “That’s fine. Not anything I didn’t know already,” he lies.

They stand there for a moment, awkwardly looking back and forth between the two boys. What does he do with them now? What do they want him to do?

Tsukki elbows Yamaguchi lightly. “Oh! Um. I guess we should let you go now,” Yamaguchi says.

Oikawa smiles. “I guess so. Where are you two headed?”

“Opposite direction of you,” Tsukki says.

Oikawa rolls his eyes. “Okay, fine, you don’t trust me, I get it. Whatever, it doesn’t matter anyway.”

Yamaguchi smiles sympathetically at him, but doesn’t elaborate. Tsukki tugs Yamaguchi’s sleeve. “C’mon, Yamaguchi, we still need to get get our stuff before the bots take it.”

“Oh! We just left it there, didn’t we…? Sorry, Tsukki…”

“It’s fine.”

They start walking away; Oikawa watches as they go. Yamaguchi turns over his shoulder and waves, saying “Thank you again, Oikawa-san!”

Oikawa smiles and waves back. “You’re welcome, Yuto-chan!” He leans against the wall and waits a few moments, until their voices die down, and he’s alone in the silent alley.

That was...a strange encounter. He doesn’t really know what just happened, but he doesn’t think the other boys did either. Oikawa still doesn’t understand much about Tsukki and Yamaguchi. They’ve been to an anti-unwind base - what did that say about them? Oikawa can only guess. All he knows is that they have a direction, while Oikawa - despite what he told them - does not. At least, not yet.

He pulls the paper Ushijima gave him out of his pocket, and opens it up. There’s only two words written on it.

_The Court._

He stares at the paper another moment, as if waiting for the rest of the information to magically appear. But it doesn’t. The two words remain alone on the page.

The court? What court? No address, no directions, just a vague place, a place that could be anywhere. He doesn’t know if it’s even a place, maybe it’s code for something else, who knows? Certainly not Oikawa.

He considers going back to the station to demand more out of Ushijima. But that other cop knew his face now; Oikawa can’t go back so soon.

After all of that - the planning, the fire, the nights at motels and the encounter at the station -  everything he did to get to this point - was all for these two fucking words. That didn’t mean anything at all. Frustrated and angry and tired, Oikawa throws the paper to the ground and stomps on it again and again.

“Stupid - Ushi - waka - ”

The paper grows grimier with each pound of his foot, wrinkling and tearing into an grubby pulp.

Once the paper is beyond recognizable, the words smeared out, Oikawa slumps against the side of the building and buries his face in his hands. His foot aches from banging it so hard against the concrete, and he times his ragged breathing with its pulsing throbs.

What does he do now? Where can he possibly go from here?

How will he get to Iwaizumi now?

As he sits there, folded in on himself, trying not to cry, he thinks of what Yamaguchi told him, about Karasuno. A secret base in the mountains. Sounds similar to Shiratorizawa. Maybe they were somehow related?

Oikawa doesn’t know how productive finding Karasuno will be, but it’s a starting point. Maybe they would know about this mysterious ‘court,’ or at least might point him towards someone who does.

Yamaguchi mentioned a location - Mt. Taihaku, the mountain overshadowing this very town. He picks himself up off the ground, secures his backpack around his shoulders, and walks out of the alleyway. From here, he can see the tip of the mountain peaking out over the rooftops, right in front of him. He steels himself, and begins toward the mountain.

Oikawa almost can’t believe where he’s at right now. On his way to find a secret rebel base - not to take them down but ask for their help. A base he knew about thanks to helping two AWOLs, or unwinds, or whatever Yamaguchi and Tsukki were. Helping them evade a system he respects and approves of.

When did this switch happen? When did he start working for the other side, for the anti-unwinding movement? Was it when he helped Yamaguchi and Tsukki? When Iwaizumi was taken away? Oikawa has a suspicion this transition has been waiting to happen for longer than he realizes. Because this switch doesn’t feel unnatural at all.

The deeper into this mess he gets, the more he questions the beliefs he holds close to his heart: unwinding is good, unwinding helps people, only bad, worthless kids get unwound, he must uphold the system. Those beliefs has shaped who he is today, both figuratively and literally. Can he truly still have faith in them, after what happened to Iwaizumi? To Kageyama? To Yamaguchi, and Tsukki?

Going against the Juvies, against everything he once trusted, is shaking the foundation of those beliefs. There’s a word for that...cognitive dissonance. It’s only because he’s doing these things that his beliefs are starting to waiver. He’s only questioning the system because his hand is forced to work against it.

As he feels his ideology starting to crumble, and Oikawa can’t help but think that maybe its foundation was never strong enough in the first place.

His beliefs are part of his identity, and if he doesn’t follow them...then who is he?

 

**xxvi. Iwaizumi Haijime**

_(Oct. 2)_

The plan had to be put on hold. Kenma had stayed up all night last night, leaving them no choice but to wait. He and Kuroo both knew it was intentional, but no one brought it up. He thought that, with Kenma’s insistent behavior, Kuroo might decide to pull back. But from the look on Kuroo’s face, he was still determined to go through with the plan, Kenma or not.

They loiter around the storage closet the rest of the day, talking about everything and nothing, while Kenma plays his game. Kuroo tells him about his time in the staho, about Kenma. Iwaizumi tells him about Oikawa.

“He’s a bastard,” Iwaizumi says in summary.

Kuroo smirks. “A bastard you fell head over heels for.”

Iwaizumi blushes, because Kuroo’s right. “Yeah...I did.”

“It must be hard being away from him,” Kuroo says. “If Kenma and I weren’t together...I don’t know where I’d be. Probably looking for him, I guess.”

Kuroo’s affection for Kenma is written all over his face. Iwaizumi’s only known them a few days, but he can’t imagine them apart. Apparently, neither can Kuroo. “I think you have a hero complex when it comes to that kid,” Iwaizumi says.

“Yeah, probably…” Kuroo says. “You know, everyone thinks I’m the one always saving Kenma - I think he thinks that, too - but he’s the one looking out for me, really.”

They glance over at Kenma, who’s tucked in a ball of blankets at the other end of the room, on his gaming device, as usual. Some might find it hard to believe that the small boy addicted to video games looks out for someone as intimidating and confident as Kuroo, but Iwaizumi absolutely believes it. “Sounds like he has his work cut out for him,” Iwaizumi teases.

“Funny. Real funny.”

Iwaizumi leans forward, voice low to avoid Kenma’s ears. “Seriously, though. What we’re doing - _this_ is how you look out for him. What he’s doing, that’s looking out for you, too.”

Kuroo throws his arms up in frustration and groans. “I know! That’s what makes this so hard.”

 

That night, Kuroo nags at Kenma until he goes to sleep.

“I know you didn’t sleep last night.”

“Yes I did.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“How would you know? You’d have to be up to know that I was up.”

“Kenma, I _know_ you. I know what you look like when you stay up all night.”

“He’s right,” Iwaizumi interjects. “You look like you need some sleep.”

Kenma pouts, but he agrees to go to bed. Iwaizumi doesn’t think he has any intention of going to sleep, but there’s not any more he can do about it. He and Kuroo lie down and pretend to go to sleep, too.

After an hour, sometime around one in the morning, Kuroo taps his shoulder as a signal to begin the plan. They rise slowly, careful not to disturb Kenma, and make their way towards the door. Kuroo picks the lock, a skill he claimed all staho kids had learned.

“Depends on the type of lock, of course,” Kuroo had explained. “Old-fashioned locks like these are a piece of cake. It’s the biolocks you need to worry about.”

Iwaizumi keeps an eye on Kenma while Kuroo messes with the door. That was his assigned task on this mission: stand watch while Kuroo does the real work. It irks him that he can’t do more, but Kuroo assured him it was an important task. If Iwaizumi messes up, and some authority finds them, they’re all in deep trouble. The kind of trouble you don’t come back from.

Kenma knew that. That’s why he was so against it. It’s a rational fear - more than rational. Maybe Kenma was right. Maybe this was too much of a risk. He knows what Oikawa would have to say about it: too big a risk for too little pay-off.

He hears a click, and turns back to Kuroo. His Cheshire cat grin glows in the dark, wiggling the bobby pin he’d found in the bathroom and used to pick the lock in his fingers.  

He pushes his fears aside. They’re already doing this - there’s no turning back now.

“Ready, Iwaizumi?” Kuroo whispers.

If he backs down now, he’s playing right into his enemy's hands. They want him to be passive, to cower in fear and hide in the shadows. They want him too afraid to fight back - because those who fight back pose a real threat. Iwaizumi can’t play into their game, he can’t let fear rule him.

Iwaizumi nods. “Let’s get to work.”

The door creaks open, and they step into the hallway. The moment they cross the doorway the lights flicker on. Iwaizumi hurriedly shuts the door behind him, as quickly and softly as he can, not wanting to wake Kenma with the sudden influx of light.

The lights reveal the grey, smooth concrete that lines the walls and the floor of the hallway. The stark stone makes it feel like they’re miles under the earth, even though Iwaizumi knows it’s only one level below the ground. The storage room they’re holed up in is at the end of the hallway, the last door on the right. At the other end, a flight of stairs lead to the first floor. There are several other doors between them and the stairs. Iwaizumi knows the next door on the right is the bathroom, and the door after that, the door to the lab. There’s a window next to this one, so anyone passing by can see into the lab.

Kuroo tiptoes down the hallway, motioning for him to follow.

They approach the window to the lab. It’s dark inside.

Kuroo eases the door handle open and steps inside. The lights flicker on in here, too. He follows Kuroo inside. The lights in the hallway flicker out behind him, veiling their way out in darkness.

Iwaizumi hadn’t gotten a good look at the lab when they brought him in here. It was always dark when the rebel running this safehouse let them use the bathroom. So he takes a moment to take in the scene before him.

It looks like any lab in a movie: white tiled ground, white walls, white shelves lined with flasks and bottles of chemicals and pieces of silver equipment. Two long, heavy metal tables line the center of the room, dozens of set ups with test tubes and papers and shit spilled across its surface. To the right was the door into the lab, large and metallic. To their left, a large display case, stacked with crates of tranq bullets.

Bingo.

“I got the bullets - you watch the door,” Kuroo tells him.

Iwaizumi nods, and stands by the part of the window near the doorway, eyes on the stairs at the end of the hallway.

He hears Kuroo messing with equipment behind him, and forces himself to quell his curiosity. He needs to keep looking ahead.

A few minutes pass. More noises. A few frustrated groans. Iwaizumi glances behind him.

Kuroo’s sitting cross legged in front of the crates. A crate that is very much still closed.

“Kuroo?” he says.

“I...have run into a problem.”

“What kind of problem?”

“The crate has a biolock.”

Iwaizumi glances at the crate. Now that he really looks, he can see the five blue squares protruding from the side of the crate - fingerprint recognition. “Oh. That’s...definitely a problem.”

“Yes. Yes it is,” Kuroo agrees unenthusiastically.

“Do you want help?” Iwaizumi doesn’t know how much help he’ll be. He knows jack shit about biolocks, or any locks, for that matter. But he feels he should offer help anyways.

Kuroo waves his hand behind him. “No, I got this. Just...keep keeping watch, or whatever you’re doing.”

Iwaizumi ignores his sass and turns back around. He bounces on the balls of his feet. The symphony of frustrated squeaks and sighs makes him nervous.

“Iwaizumi?” Kuroo says.

“Yeah?”

“I lied. I do not got this. Come help me.”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, and walks over to where Kuroo’s sitting, and crouches down next to him. He notices a cardboard box of disposable gloves on the ground next to him; Kuroo’s wearing a pair. He taps his fingers together, the plastic gloves crinkling loudly as he does.

“So...how does it work?” Iwaizumi asks.

Kuroo sighs. “Hell if I know.”

They stare at the lock, at the blue squares that sit in front of them, mockingly. Kuroo reaches out to touch it, then pulls his hand back.

“Can you, like, hack it, or something?”

“If that’s even possible, I couldn’t do it.”

Iwaizumi’s debating on whether he can just rip it open when a small voice sounds behind them.

“You shouldn’t be doing this.”

Iwaizumi’s heart jumps into his throat as he jumps up to face -

Kenma. He stands in the doorway to the lab, arms hanging by his side, flannel pajama bottoms grazing the white tiled floor.

Kuroo scrambles to his feet. “I didn’t know you were still awake. Kenma, I…” For once, Kuroo is at a loss for words. “Iwaizumi, I thought you were watching the door?” Kuroo asks, gaze still trained on Kenma.

“Dumbass, you told me to come over here and help!”

“You shouldn’t be doing this,” Kenma repeats. His small fingers curl into fists, pulling his long sleeves taut.

The shock seems to have worn off, now. “Yeah, well, we’re doing it anyways,” Kuroo asserts.

Kenma lets out a resigned sigh. Iwaizumi can hear Kenma release his hope of winning this argument in that sigh.

“Just let me do it,” he says, pointing to the biolock.

Kuroo looks at the lock, then back at Kenma. “What? But…”

“Do you want me to do it or not?” Kenma snaps.

Iwaizumi’s confused by Kenma’s sudden change of heart. Kuroo is too, by the look of it, but only for a moment. His gaze softens, and he nods. He motions Kenma over, and hands him a pair of plastic gloves.

“Hey,” Kuroo says, placing his hand on Kenma’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

Kenma shrugs his hand off. With his attention directed at the biolock, he completely misses the hurt look on Kuroo’s face.

“I care about other AWOLs too,” Kenma whispers.

“I know you do,” Kuroo says.

Watching them interact sends a thrill of nostalgia through him. The casual affection between them, even in moments of contention, reminds him so much of Oikawa and him.

He’s so entranced that he nearly doesn’t notice Kuroo talking to him. “Iwaizumi - door.”

“...I know.” He takes his place by the door and keeps watch - properly, this time - while Kenma and Kuroo deal with the crate.

After several minutes of tinkering, Iwaizumi hears a click.

Kuroo gasps. “...how the hell did you do that. We didn’t even have biolocks at the staho.”

“...it’s not that hard.”

“Bullshit, but all right.”

Iwaizumi doesn’t turn around to see what’s happening, but he can hear it. The slide of metal against the floor. A deep breath in, and a loud _thunk_. A frustrated groan.

“Fuck. Kenma, will you - ”

“No.”

“But - ”

“Too much effort.”

Iwaizumi turns around. Kuroo’s hands are wrapped around the handles of the crate, which is still on the floor. He lifts it two inches in the air before suddenly dropping it, hitting the ground with a displeasing _thud_.

Finally, something he can help with. He clears his throat to get the attention of the other two. He waves Kenma over. “Kenma, come keep watch.”

Kenma, seemingly happy for a way out, takes his place near the door. In his stead, Iwaizumi goes to help Kuroo lift the crate. It’s not even that big, Iwaizumi doesn’t know what the problem is. How heavy could a bunch of bullets be?

“It’s pretty heavy, maybe we should try together...” Kuroo says.

Iwaizumi pushes past him and reaches for the crate -

“Wait!” Kuroo grabs his arm. “Put these on first.” He hands him a pair of plastic gloves. “Wouldn’t want to leave any traces for the Juvies to find.”

Iwaizumi nods and puts them on. Then he wraps his hands under the crate, lifts it up and drops it onto the table.

Kuroo whistles, “Well, look at you, Muscle Man.”

Iwaizumi shoves him. “Just get on with it.”

He trades places with Kenma again, eyes on the stairs.

Kuroo takes about an hour to do - whatever he’s doing. It’s a very boring hour. The exhaustion is finally starting to get to him; his eyes droop low and he keeps nodding off. For a secret stealthy mission, like the kind you see in spy movies, this is a lot more boring than Iwaizumi thought it’d be.

“Why don’t you just drain it down the sink, and fill it with something that looks similar?” Iwaizumi asks at one point.

“I can’t do that!” Kuroo exclaims. “Do you know how dangerous these chemicals are?”

“No. But day one, you said they were perfectly safe - ”

“Besides,” Kuroo interrupts, “that’s no fun.”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes and resumes dazing off while watching the door.

“Done!” Kuroo finally says. Iwaizumi snaps awake, and helps Kuroo move the crate back into position and put away all the materials he’d used.

“Wait,” Kenma says. He points to a bright yellow canister sitting on one of the shelves, _Bleach Wipes!_ written in thick red letters across it. “DNA swipe.”

Even though they’d all been wearing gloves, they wipe down every surface they’d touched, from the door handle to the bottom of the crate.

Iwaizumi smiles proudly. “They’ll never even know.”

“And if they do find out, well…” Kuroo goes up to the window, takes off a glove, and draws two dots and a smile with his finger. “Then they’ll know who to blame.”

Kenma frowns. “That was stupid.”

Kuroo rolls his eyes. “What are they going to do if they find out? Unwind me?”

“No,” Kenma says, his glare blazing holes where Kuroo stands. “But they’ll know where you were. And they’ll know you couldn’t have gotten in here by yourself.”

Iwaizumi recalls what Kuroo had said before, how Kenma was the one looking out for him. Right now, he can see as clear as day how true those words are.

Iwaizumi hands Kuroo the yellow canister. “He’s right.”

Kuroo sighs, and takes it with his gloved hand. “Fine. But only for you, Kenma~”

When Kuroo turns around to wipe his DNA smile away, he misses the blush blooming across Kenma’s face. Iwaizumi quirks an eyebrow at him. Kenma narrows his eyes and shoots him a glare that says, _Don’t even think about it._

As soon as Kenma’s satisfied there’s no trace of DNA left, they run out of the lab and back into the storage room.

He didn’t realize how loud his heart was pounding until now. They’d done it - they’d really done it.

Kuroo lets out a giggle, which is so ridiculous it makes Iwaizumi snort and that makes Kenma giggle, and soon they’re all laughing hysterically because they’d just contaminated an entire crate of tranquilizer bullets.

Their laughter eventually dies down, and Iwaizumi asks Kuroo, “What did you even do?”

Kuroo bursts into an elaborate explanation of the chemicals he used to neutralize the neurotoxins in the tranquilizers. Iwaizumi stares on, dumbfounded; he understands perhaps a tenth of what Kuroo’s saying.

“Why did they kick you out of staho again?” he asks incredulously.

Kuroo shrugs. “My elaborate chemistry knowledge scared them.”

Iwaizumi laughs. “Too bad for them. They lost a good student.”

A hand slaps his back, and Iwaizumi jumps in surprise. Kuroo’s smiling at him, really smiling. “And your parents lost a good son.”

Iwaizumi pats his shoulder back. “Thanks.”

He appreciates Kuroo’s sentiment, but the fact is, his parents hadn’t lost him - they were the ones who put him in this mess. He wants to hate them for it, but the truth is, his love for them was too scarce for hate to build on. It’s the institution that allowed this to happen - to him, to Kuroo and Kenma, to all the unwinds he’s met to far and all the others he’ll never meet - and Iwaizumi’s determined to have his revenge. He won’t be a harmless victim any longer.

Their act of rebellion was small. They hadn’t freed a whole bus of unwinds, or lobbied against the Unwind Accords, or blown up a harvest camp.

But it was a start.

 

**xxvii. Akaashi Keiji**

_(Oct. 4)_

It’s not that Akaashi has a problem with Nakashima. But he really doesn’t like his affinity for cheesy party games.

Bokuto joined in without hesitation. Nakashima got Hyakuzawa to join in after a little prodding. Akaashi refused outright.

So far they’d played Twenty Questions, Hot Seat, and Never Have I Ever. Akaashi managed to avoid playing for the first few, but eventually, his own boredom got to him. Of course, once he decided to join them, they switched the game to Truth or Dare.

At first, the questions and dares start out harmless enough. Nakashima asks some lewd questions any teenager would say, Bokuto has to lick his own shoe, Hyakuzawa threatens to quit when Akaashi dares him to wear his pants on his head the rest of the game. They stick mostly to truths after that, once they realize the limited dares they can make in such a small space.  

But the questions get more personal, more intimate, and Akaashi’s nerves rise higher and higher.

“Are you mad at your parents for deciding to tithe you?” Bokuto asks Nakashima.

Nakashima considers this. “Not really. I was at first, when they hid me away, and when I first went on the run. I was angry at them for making me go through that. But then I realized they were victims, too, in a way. They tithed me because of the pressure their friends put on them, they were influenced by the media around them. Yeah, it’s their  fault in the end, but. I’m just thankful they had the strength to change their minds.”

Nakashima turns to Hyakuzawa. “What would you have done if you weren’t AWOL?”

“I’d still be in school, I guess. I thought about trying out for the volleyball team.”

“Nah, I mean like, with your life. Did you have any plans?”

“Oh. Not really. I know I don’t look it, but I’m only fourteen. I haven’t had a lot of time to think about it...I always thought I’d have more time to decide.”

“Oh...that sucks, man.”

Hyakuzawa shrugs. “It does, but it’s better than having a dream you know you’ll never achieve, I guess.”

Hyakuzawa turns to Akaashi; it’s his turn again.

“Truth,” Akaashi says.

“How did the Juvies get you?”

 

_His door slams against the wall. Akaashi snaps awake, his eyes surging open. Bright light floods his vision. Three men in navy and red file into his room, surrounding his bed, blocking any exit before he’s awake enough to think._

_“What’s going on?” he asks. The Juvies remain mute, not daring to look at him._

_Another man walks through the door. He recognizes this one - the Producer._

_Akaashi watches him as he struts into the room, steps slow and deliberate. His shoes don’t make a sound against the soft carpet, but Akaashi imagines the room shakes with each step he takes._

_He reaches the edge of Akaashi’s bed, and looks at him, mouth pulled in a taut, unamused line._

_“...why?” Akaashi asks when he remains silent._

_“We know what you did,” the Producer says. Akaashi’s heart drops to his stomach, he holds his breath in anticipation._ _“We can’t let this get out, so we’re going to cut the problem off at the root.”_

_The Juvies. The dramatic entrance in the middle of the night. He knows what’s happening, but he can’t believe it -_

_“Your contract is up, Keiji.”_

_All the air in his lungs leaves him at once, until he’s empty, empty, empty. He grips the satin sheets tight in his hand. All points of protest - no matter how justified - die on his lips. He knows what that means - no matter what he says, the Producer won’t do anything. Can’t do anything. His unwind order is already signed._

_“I thought the contract held until I was eighteen,” Akaashi mumbles._

_The producer laughs, low and menacing. “That wasn’t part of the deal, Keiji~ You’ve done your job. But you’re not useful to me any longer.”_

_The Juvey on his right grabs his arm. Akaashi throws him off, scrambling out of the sheets, but another Juvey snatches his wrist before he can even make it out of bed. Akaashi yanks back, trying to free himself -_

_“Ah ah ah - if you struggle, someone else will face the consequences.”_

_Akaashi pauses, looking the Producer defiantly in the eye._

_The man smiles. “Or perhaps, you don’t care?”_

_Akaashi stills. The Producer’s words eat at him; they make him hesitate. He can’t let him be right, he can’t give him that satisfaction._

_He’s as good as caught, anyways. Everything he did, he did to avoid this fate - yet, it’s those very same decisions that led to this point. Irony must be smirking in delight._

_If this is the end for him, he will make this exit on his terms. No one else needs to get hurt because of him - not anymore._

_So Akaashi stops struggling. He lets the Juvies take him into their car, in the middle of the night, while the rest of the world sleeps. They drive for a long, long time. He doesn’t struggle on the way there. He lets them lead him into the station without protest, lets them throw him in the cell to await his demise._

_The wait is long and boring and painful. He loses himself in his head, mourning how his endeavors to keep himself from this very spot were ultimately fruitless. Hopeless overcomes him in ceaseless waves, dragging him out further and further into the water._

_Just before he begins to drown, the Juvies place another boy in his cell._

 

“I was shipped on a bus. Just a regular drop off between stahos,” he says.

Hyakuzawa nods. “Oh. That makes sense, I guess.”

Akaashi can feel Bokuto looking at him. He wonders if Bokuto can tell he lied.

He can’t keep picking truth. Who knows what they’d make him reveal, and what lie he’d have to come up with next.

They go around again, until it’s his turn again.

“...dare.”

“Oho, finally have to guts to do a dare Akaashi?” Bokuto teases.

“One dare coming right up,” Nakashima says, rubbing his hands together like an evil villain. Akaashi braces himself.

“I dare you to kiss your boyfriend.”

Whatever he was expecting to hear, it wasn’t that.

“I...what?”

Nakashima smiles. “It’s your first time picking dare. So I’m being nice.”

That was not nice. Not nice at all. But Nakashima doesn’t know that, and Akaashi’s not about to correct him.

“You guys never go all PDA on us, which, I mean, thanks, because that would be really awkward,” Nakashima says with a smirk. He leans back on his elbows, proud smile on his face. “Consider this as me giving you guys a pass.”

Next to him, Bokuto tenses up. “Akaashi, I know it’s a dare, but I’m not going to make you if - ”

Trying to hide his urgency, Akaashi presses a finger to Bokuto’s mouth. Bokuto goes silent the moment it makes contact with his lips. If they were going to make this work, Bokuto couldn’t go saying things like that. They couldn’t show any signs of hesitation.

Akaashi doesn’t think - he just acts. If Nakashima wants a kiss, he’ll get a kiss.

Akaashi drops his finger underneath Bokuto’s jaw and pulls his chin forward. “You’re my boyfriend, Bo - Koutarou - of course I want to kiss you.”

And he leans forward to kiss him.

As their lips awkwardly slot together, Akaashi realizes he has no idea what to do. He’s only been kissed once before, but he doesn’t count that time. He wonders if this is Bokuto’s first kiss. He hopes not; he’d feel bad for taking that away from him.

The kiss feels strange; with their lips just pressed lightly together he knows they’re not convincing, so Akaashi takes initiative and leans into Bokuto, movings his lips like he had seen people do in movies. Bokuto pulls back and inhales sharpy before surging back against him, hand curling around Akaashi’s neck, drawing them closer together. Afraid to lose control, Akaashi pushes back, moving insistently against him, nipping against his lower lip, dragging a quiet moan out of Bokuto.

It’s sloppy and strange and far from perfect, but it feels kind of...nice.

He’s faintly aware of Nakashima wolf-whistling at them, but he’s too distracted to care.

It’s only when Bokuto drops his hand and begins to lean away that Akaashi realizes how far he let it go. He pulls back immediately, wiping away the build-up of spit on his lips.

He looks at the ground, avoiding eye contact with everyone else - Bokuto most of all. Had he crossed a line? He knows the role they agreed to, but they hadn’t set any boundaries, so Akaashi can’t possibly know if he’s crossed any.

Ignoring the ball of anxiety tightening in his chest, he glances briefly at Nakashima. “Satisfied?” he asks, trying to keep the waiver out of his voice.

He shrugs, still smirking. “Only if you are.”

“Well, I know _I_ am!” Bokuto bursts.

The other two laugh, and Akaashi can’t help but blush.

Bokuto reaches for his hand. He takes it gratefully, letting Bokuto’s touch ground him.

Luckily, the others seem satisfied, and move on with the game.

“Nakashima?” Hyakuzawa asks.

“Truth.”

“Are you a voyeur?”

“Wha - I - that’s uncalled for!”

“It’s definitely called for and you know it.”

Throughout the rest of the game, Akaashi doesn’t pick dare again. Who knows what he’ll have to prove next.

Later that night, when the others are engaged in an intense game of chess, he pulls on Bokuto’s sleeve and leads him to the other side of the room, the farthest away from Nakashima and Hyakuzawa as they can get. He sits down, legs crossed, and leans against the wall. Bokuto slides down next to him.

He doesn’t know where else to start, so might as well just say it.

“I’m sorry,” Akaashi whispers to him. “I shouldn’t have kissed you without your permission - ”

“No, no no! It’s alright!” Bokuto interrupts, waving his hands frantically. “Don’t worry about it - I didn’t mind! It was fine. I mean - better than fine! ‘Cause you’re not a bad kisser or anything...so. It was a dare, so you had to do it, right?”

Akaashi notes the sour tone in his voice, but Akaashi doesn’t know where the bitterness is coming from.

“Yes...I had to.” He wants to say more, wants to reassure Bokuto, but he can’t think of what else to say. Akaashi’s learned enough about Bokuto to know that he when he isn’t boasting, he has problems with self esteem; he sounds like he’s slipping into one of those moods right now, and Akaashi doesn’t know how to stop it, he doesn’t know what to say.

The right words won’t come to him, so instead he leans his head on Bokuto’s shoulder, and curls up against his side.

At first, the position feels weird. He’s never been close to someone before like this. Bokuto tenses up, and sits perfectly still, except for his hands that dance across his lap.

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says. “What are you thinking about?”

Almost immediately, Bokuto relaxes. “Oh! Um. You know how, back home I was on the volleyball team? Whenever we went to games and practice matches we always took the bus, and there was this one time when I was sitting next to Washio - he was one of my teammates - and he fell asleep, and his head fell on my shoulder just like you’re doing now! But his chin kind of dug into my arm so it was kind of uncomfortable? But only a little bit and I didn’t want to wake him so I let him lean on my shoulder all the way home!”

 _Oh._ This had made Bokuto comfortable before. Akaashi leans back, taking it as a sign to give him some space -

“Wait! You don’t have to move!” Bokuto says. “I mean, you can keep doing...that. Your chin isn’t uncomfortable at all! Actually, it feels kinda nice...is that weird? I hope it’s not weird.”

“It’s not weird, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says. Not that he’s a good judge of things like this.

Bokuto leans back onto him, nuzzling his cheek into Akaashi’s hair. He blushes. He doesn’t know if Bokuto’s consciously doing this or not, but Akaashi finds he doesn’t mind.

They sit like the for awhile, until Akaashi begins to drift off.

“Hey, hey, Akaashi?” Bokuto asks eventually.

“Yes, Bokuto-san?”

“If for, whatever reason, we need to kiss again...I don’t mind.”

For a moment, Akaashi is silent. He doesn’t know what to do with that information.

Bokuto clears his throat. “Just...thought you should know.”

“Thank you...I don’t mind either.”

“Oh. Okay. That’s...good.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

Akaashi lets Bokuto’s warmth envelope him, and slowly falls into a peaceful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finals are just around the corner (help me) so hopefully i’ll be able to keep with this more once they’re over. But next quarter is going to be pretty busy for me, so chapters will probably be biweekly now! 
> 
> Thank you all for sticking with me through this! Your comments give me life!!!


	10. Monsters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sugawara “when will my reflection show who I am inside” Koushi admires his own good looks. Bokuto Koutarou prefers Western-style architecture. Tsukishima Kei did, in fact, save the soggy french fries for Yamaguchi. Oikawa Tooru is a master of googling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I’m back! (for now) i took a break to write a piece for bokuaka week, and that took more out of me then i thought. my finals went great - this bitch got a 4.0! Even though i was more than an hour late to one of them...holy shit that was the scariest moment of my life

**xxviii. Sugawara Koushi**

_ (Oct. 6) _

Ever since the accident, Suga hasn’t felt like himself.

He’s grown as a person, matured and become a little more cynical, but that’s expected from the trauma he went through. This feeling is more than that. It’s like he’s a stranger in his own body. Like when he moves his fingers, it’s someone else’s fingers that move instead. Like he can’t sense where his body is. 

The worst is times like now, when he looks in a mirror, and doesn’t recognize the face looking back at him.  

He doesn’t know how long he’s been staring at himself in the mirror; his sense of time is fuzzy at best. The sun has barely peaked over the horizon, giving him just enough light to see himself clearly. He and Daichi are supposed to be going on patrol soon, but Suga can’t bring himself to look away, afraid of what will happen when he turns his back on whoever’s looking at him through the mirror now.  

He brings his hands up to his face, and watches the man in the mirror do the same. On a conscious level, he knows it’s his face, but it doesn’t feel like it. 

He traces imaginary lines on his skin, hypothetical seams that hold his parts together. When the lights hit his skin just right, he swears he can see lines appear where his finger just traced. That’s all he feels like now - a bundle of parts. Most of the time they work together, but sometimes they don’t.

“...puzzle pieces...frankenstein’s monster…put it back, put it back...”

“Suga.”

The discomfort in his own skin is bad enough, but worse is the paranoia. Suga is sure he’s being watched, sure that someone is onto them, that it’s only a matter of time before the Juvies come for them, that he’s missing something important, something obvious, and it’s staring him in the face but Suga can’t see it with these eyes that don’t feel like his own. 

“...check the locks...we’re being followed…gonna stab me in the back...”

“Suga.”

Sometimes he regrets waking up from that coma. He’s proud of what Karasuno has done, of course. He’s grateful to be part of something bigger than himself, something that matters - they all are. He puts on a smile for the rest of their little family, to show them strength, even when it’s nearly impossible. He does it anyway. 

He’s not sure how much longer he can keep it up. 

“No take backs…keep moving forward...”

“Hey. Suga.” A hand on his shoulder. 

Suga snaps his head around, and meets a pair of familiar brown eyes. Immediately, he relaxes. It’s just Daichi.

His brows knit together in worry. “You were muttering to yourself again,” Daichi says. 

Suga bows his head.  _ Shit. Not again. _ “I was?”

Daichi nods. He runs his hand up and down Suga’s arm. “It’s normal, to talk to yourself. You shouldn’t worry about it.”

Suga gives a half-hearted scoff. _ It’s not the same. _ He takes a step back, pulling away from Daichi’s hand. His touch, that use to send sparks across his skin, now made his flesh crawl. Everyone’s touch did that, but he misses Daichi’s touch most of all. It eats him, having Daichi so close, finally within his grasp, and yet the feelings between them slip like sand between his fingers. 

“Daichi...do you ever regret - ”

“No. Never,” he interrupts firmly.

Suga crosses his arms. “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

Daichi smiles knowingly. Suga hates that smile, because it reminds him that Daichi sees right past him. “Suga, I know exactly what you were going to say. You were going to ask if I regret leaving home for Karasuno. And the answer is, and always will be, no. We’re doing something important.” He reaches his hand out. Suga flinches and pulls away. Instantly he feels guilty, but Daichi just smiles. “And I get to be with you,” he says. 

Suga lets his legs give out, because Daichi’s words ring empty. He lowers himself to the ground, and balls his knees up underneath his chin. He can’t look Daichi in the eye. “I’m sorry I can’t - ”

“Hey, hey. It’s okay. You have nothing to be sorry for.” The hitch in Daichi’s breath tells Suga where this is going. “If anything, it’s me - ”

_ “Don’t _ start on this again,” Suga snaps. 

Daichi goes silent. 

“We’ve already established that this is not your fault,” Suga tells him. “You weren’t the one driving the car that hit me, were you?”

Daichi looks at his feet, surely remembering coming to Suga’s window in the middle of the night, encouraging him to follow him down the blackened streets. And then, the crash. The coma. The unwind order. The beginning of this mess. 

“Were you?” Suga asks again. 

“...no,” he mutters. 

“See? Not your fault.” 

Suga never blamed Daichi for the accident, not for a single second. Yet Daichi still felt guilty for taking him out that night; he’s convinced none of this would have happened if he hadn’t suggested something so rash. 

If there’s anyone to blame, it’s the unwinding system. The institution that propagates lies about the virtuosity of unwinding, circulating propaganda to convince parents to betray their own children, enforcing strict rules that threw him and his parents under the bus. This was their doing; the bureaucrats that implemented the system, the Juvey-cops who maintained it, the doctors that carried it out, the media that encouraged it. That’s who he’s fighting against now; each unwind Karasuno saved was another strike against the system, another voice raised in opposition. 

Daichi stands there for a long moment. He knows he’s looking at him, but Suga can’t bring himself to look back. “Maybe we should skip out on patrol this morning,” he says eventually.

Reluctantly, Suga nods. He knows by now that this isn’t a suggestion, it’s a demand. 

Daichi stands up, dusting his hands together. “I’ll send Kageyama and Hinata. They’re always eager. Maybe they’ll burn themselves out, and we’ll finally have some peace and quiet.”

This is the moment where Suga, thankful for the kindness of his boyfriend, would pull him into a chaste kiss. And then Daichi would smile against his lips, and they would giggle and blush like the teenagers they were. 

He wants to. But his legs won’t let him stand and his lip curls at the thought of touching another’s. 

Daichi turns to leave, and the chance is lost. 

“I’m sorry,” Suga mumbles against his knees. 

Daichi turns back around. “I’m just happy that you’re here. And conscious.”

“But I’m different than before,” Suga says. “I’m different than the me you…” he lowers his voice, like he’s telling a secret, “...the me you fell in love with.”

He glances up just in time for him to watch Daichi blows him a kiss. Suga lifts his hand to catch it. He gives a small smile; this one he doesn’t have to force. “You still look like Suga to me,” Daichi tells him. 

His words ring hollow, meaningless. What does it matter that he looks like himself when he’s only inhabiting an imposter’s body?

  
  


**xxix. Bokuto Koutarou**

_ (Oct. 6) _

Akaashi had kissed him.

Bokuto can’t stop thinking about it. That kiss had been - wow. It was really nice. Bokuto had fooled around a couple times before, but those other times were with girls and it was always uncomfortable for some reason. This kiss was awkward, but it felt right in a way Bokuto never experienced before. 

And that was the worst part. If it had just been like any other kiss, it wouldn’t have mattered, but he  _ felt _ something, so it did. The problem was that they did it for show. He knew what he was getting into when he agreed to this - or at least he thought he did. Akaashi was really hard to read, so he couldn’t tell what he thought about it, if he had felt that thing too. He had certainly seemed enthusiastic in his actions, but Bokuto couldn’t tell if that was for show, or if he really meant it, or if he just liked kissing.

But Bokuto can’t help it. He gets attached easily, and Akaashi is no exception. He can’t help but feel affection for Akaashi, not when he cared for Bokuto in these past two weeks more than his friends had in the past two years, not when he kissed him like that.

Bokuto is growing attached, and in his experience, that was very, very bad. People tire of him. They move on. No one ever sticks around for long, no matter how tightly he holds on. And now, with their lives on the line every single day, there’s no telling how long they’ll last. And assuming that they do...what then? Akaashi has his own life to go back to, he’s only sticking with Bokuto out of convenience and necessity. He probably plans to leave Bokuto once they’re through this. Not that Bokuto blames him, but...since that’s the case, it’s better not to grow attached, right?

In his confusion and distress, Bokuto keeps circling back to the cardboard boxes, the only distraction the room has to offer. He stacks boxes in a circle around him, in rows on top of each other. It reminds him of a castle, like the towers in Western fairy tales.

But it’s not quite right. He knocks the boxes down and starts again, this time with a goal in mind. He’s going to make these boxes into something beautiful.

Everything fades away, until it’s only him and the castle. 

Fitting boxes together delicately, cementing them into stone blocks. Ripping off tops and scavenging for just the right pieces to sculpt stairways and roof shingles and iron gateways. Poking rounded windows through the walls, erecting towers that soar above his head, tearing battlements into the walls. 

Hurrying to grab the roof piece that will complete the second tower, he trips over the drawbridge and the portcullis disintegrates back into cardboard. 

“Shit!”

He forgets about the tower and drops to his knees, immediately trying to rebuild the castle entrance, bit by bit. 

Time goes by - Bokuto isn’t sure how much - but the others don’t bother him. Or at least, he doesn’t think they do.

The castle grows more and more elaborate. Walls stretch out from either side of the portcullis, and Bokuto loops around the back to finish the watch towers and main building from within. A castle that just looks nice wouldn’t be functional - he has to think of the residents. So he adds floors within the main structure, crafts walls between rooms and sews tiny blankets. Maybe if he has enough material at the end, he can hammer out some swords to store in the armory, and equip the castle residents for battle. 

He doesn’t notice the daylight fading until long shadows protrude onto the castle’s foundation. Maybe the castle residents need a clocktower. Did medieval castles have clock towers? Bokuto doesn’t know, but he’ll make one anyway, right after he finishes the structural base for this building.

Soon, just to see in front of him, Bokuto leans so close to his creation, his nose brushes the walls. The dull green glow of his eyes reflects off the white stone, giving off enough light to allow him to keep working.

“Bokuto-san.”

How many windows should this tower have? This is where the princess lives, but would she want less windows for privacy? Or more, so the wind could flow through her room? More, probably; this tower is so tall, privacy is hardly a concern. 

“Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto knows Akaashi’s calling him, but he just needs to finish this one last thing. “Yeah?” he says, using his nail to shape the first window in the princess’s room.

“You should come to bed. It’s late. You’ve been working on that all day.”

Wait, should the windows face north and south? Or east and west? Bokuto considers it for a moment, and then decides east and west. That way she could see the sun rise and set. Now  _ that _ would be a view. 

Bokuto clicks his tongue. “Just give me five more minutes, ‘Kaashi, I’m almost done.”

He’s vaguely aware of Akaashi standing there, but really, he just needs to finish this tower, then he’ll take a break. But he should probably finish the armory’s foundation, just so the castle is structurally sound. Then he’ll go to bed. 

“Fine. Just...finish quickly.”

“Yeah, yeah, I will, don’t worry...go to bed, I’ll follow you soon…” 

Akaashi drifts away and Bokuto is alone with the castle again. His hands automatically grab piece after piece after piece, and the castle blooms out of the ground and grows up towards the sky, like a weed free to grow wild. Once it flowers tall and wide, Bokuto digs behind the outside walls to perfect the intricacies of the inside, fashioning swords and arrows and kitchens and doors and beds and little people to populate the empty building. 

He reaches behind him for the next piece - feeling along the smooth concrete - leaning back to grab it - 

Bokuto turns around to see an empty floor. There’s no more material left - he’s used every last piece of cardboard.

“Oh.”

With nothing else to propel him forward, Bokuto leans back on his elbows and breathes.

Morning snuck up on him like a prowling cat; sunlight peeks through the small rectangular windows near the ceiling, illuminating his masterpiece. The castle comes up just past his head, bubbling out from a corner at least six feet, boasting swirling towers and towering walls.   Bits of old tape still stuck to the cardboard reflect off sunlight, causing it to sparkle. 

“Holy shit.”

Bokuto turns around. Nakashima, eyes still bleary from sleep, stares at the castle, mouth open. At his exclamation, the other two start to stir. 

Nakashima looks back and forth between him and the castle. “Did you...I mean, I saw it yesterday, but this…”

Bokuto scratches the back of his neck. “Sometimes that happens when I hyperfocus…”

Next to him, Hyakuzawa sits up. He blinks his eye open. When he sees the castle, they widen. “It got bigger,” he mumbles. 

“No shit.” Nakashima grins and elbows the sleepy giant. “But man...Bokuto, this is incredible.”

Bokuto lights up. “You - you really think so? I was just - I was bored, but then I got into this and kind dove into it more than I thought I would...but it turned out pretty great, didn’t it…?”

Bokuto’s gaze drifts, until he finds himself meeting Akaashi’s stern glare.

Bokuto jumps. He hadn’t even noticed Akaashi waking up. 

Akaashi is unfazed. His green-eyed stare holds all the judgement in the world, but coupled with his awful bedhead, Bokuto can’t be intimidated.

“Did you stay up all night making this?” Akaashi asks. 

Bokuto looks away. He may not feel intimidated, but he still feels guilty. “Ahhh…no?”

Akaashi narrows his eyes. Bokuto gulps; he knows he doesn’t buy it.

“Take a nap,” Akaashi demands. 

“But I’m not - ”

“Come over here now,” he threatens, patting the space next to him. “And take. A. Nap.” 

Now that Akaashi mentions it, he is kind of tired. His hands feel dry and raw, and his eyes are already starting to droop. Plus, he doesn’t want to disappoint Akaashi. “Okay.”

Bokuto crawls over to Akaashi and tucks himself underneath his covers. He glances one last time at the structure he built, silently wishes the people inside good night (good morning?), and curls up on his side, facing the wall. 

To his surprise, he hears the slide of a cot against the ground. Then he feels a head press in between his shoulder blades, and a body line up against his.

Bokuto freezes. “Akaashi, you don’t have to lie down with me,” he whispers soft enough so the others can’t hear. He knows Akaashi has been willing to take their fake relationship far, willing to kiss him, even, but he doesn’t want Akaashi to feel like he has to spend every moment proving to the others that they’re together. Not that he minds - Bokuto doesn’t mind at all - he’s only concerned for Akaashi’s wellbeing.

But Akaashi just nestles closer against Bokuto, even wrapping a hand around his bicep. “...it’s too early to wake up,” he grumbles.

His breathing grows quiet and long, and he feels so peaceful, and Bokuto’s really tired too, so he doesn’t question it. With Akaashi’s arm on his, he falls asleep. 

 

When the rebel worker comes to feed them breakfast and let them use the bathroom, he nearly drops their food upon seeing Bokuto’s castle.

“Wow, that is…” He eyes the castle from top to bottom, “...that is something.”

“I’m sorry!” Bokuto exclaims, falling into an apologetic bow, “I know I wasn’t supposed to, but I - I….”

The man simply smiles at him. “It’s alright. But you do know you’ll have to take it down.”

Bokuto bites his lip. Yes, he knows, but he’s not happy about it. He spent an entire day building the castle, he put so much thought and effort into it, and he’s truly proud of the result. 

A part of him knew he’d have to tear it down in the end. Anyone would be suspicious about an elaborate structure like this miraculously appearing in a supposedly empty storage room. But it still shocks him. It tugs at his heartstrings, and not in a good way. 

Akaashi comes to stand by his side, and places a comforting hand on his shoulder. “He knows,” Akaashi says for him. 

The man smiles grimly. “Here, you know what - ” he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, “ - I’ll take a picture first.” 

He spends ten minutes taking multiple photographs of the castle, from the inside out, capturing the tiny details Bokuto spent so much time on. When he’s done, he shows Bokuto all his pictures to get his approval. And then, he offers him his hand. “I’m Yamiji Takeyuki. Come find me once you turn eighteen - I’ll have these pictures saved for you.”

Bokuto brightens. “Thank you, sir! I’ll be sure to find you...somehow. It might take a while, though. Also I can’t promise I’ll remember your name, so that might but a problem...but I’ll do my best to remember! I promise!”

Yamiji lets out a boisterous laugh. “I’m sure you’ll do fine, kid. For now, just focus on making it that long.”

His words dampen Bokuto’s mood, but he can’t deny Yamiji’s right. Even though it feels like it’s been a century since he ran away from the Juvey cops with Akaashi, he knows it’s only been a couple of weeks. He has a long way to go - nearly a year - until he’s truly free. “Yeah...yeah, okay.”

Yamiji smiles and claps his hands together. “Now, I think you have some demolition work to do?”

Too afraid to start to process on his own, he invites the others to join him and tearing it down. In the end, knocking down the structure is cathartic for them all. 

After being told to shut up and stay still for days on end in the safe houses, destroying the building becomes a release of their anger - of their rage - that tumbled around inside them with no way to escape. Anger at the government, anger at their parents, anger at the world, spills out in their violent movements. They shout and they yell and they smash, smash, smash; tearing neat walls into cardboard confetti, toppling towers into flat, stiff boards. Everything comes down, not a single detail spared. 

Bokuto ruins his creation. As opposed to the hours spent in the creation of his castle, the destruction takes mere minutes. Tears spray from his eyes, weeping for the loss of his creation, for the people’s loss of their home. 

 

At one in the morning, a truck comes for them. They say their goodbyes to Nakashima and Hyakuzawa - and the remnants of the castle - and head off to a new safe house. 

They sit together in the back of the truck, bobbing up and down as the truck speeds over uneven road. 

“Akaashi, why don’t you ever talk about your past?” Bokuto says. 

A tension rises between them, and elastic barrier pulled taut. Bokuto almost expects Akaashi to reach out and snap it, but he only tugs it tighter, the tension constricting Bokuto’s throat.

Akaashi rolls over to face him, face poised in a neutral expression. “Why do you ask.”

After a moment of hesitation, Bokuto says, “Dunno. Just curious, I guess? The rest of us have shared a lot... Not that I’m saying you have to share! I was just...wondering why, I guess.”

The tension pulls him closer to Akaashi, the stretch makes him ache. Finally, Akaashi says, “It’s not something I’m fond of remembering.” 

“Oh.” A shift in the tension accompanies the shift in Akaashi’s tone. He sounds worn out, tired, hopeless. Kind of like he had when they first met. Bokuto thinks Akaashi wants to say more, but the words are stuck in his throat. 

He wonders why he doesn’t want to remember. Did something bad happen to him? He knew kids at the staho had it bad, but it must have been pretty horrible if Akaashi didn’t want to talk about it at all. 

“Well. I just wanted to say, like, I’m not going to judge you or anything. Whatever happened, happened, but you’ll still be Akaashi to me.”

Lights flash like strobe lights through the window, illuminating Akaashi’s face at irregular intervals. He looks like a picture, staring up at the ceiling, motionless. “Thank you, Bokuto-san,” he says eventually, lips barely moving, “but you shouldn’t make promises like that.”

“Why not?” Bokuto blurts. 

Akaashi’s shoulders tense.  _ Oh, I shouldn’t have said that, should I? _

“You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep,” Akaashi states. 

Bokuto doesn’t understand why those words make him so angry, but he can’t help the red that rushes through him. “I think I know what promises I can and can’t keep, thank you very much,” Bokuto fumes. He jabs Akaashi’s shoulder. “I meant what I said. I think you’re a good person, Akaashi.”

Akaashi snorts. “You hardly know me.”

“Then let me know you better,” Bokuto says. “Only to confirm that I’m right, of course.”

A small smile dances on Akaashi’s lips. Bokuto’s heart skips a beat. 

“Plus, I need to know more about my boyfriend, right? Or no one will believe our story.”

The roar of a motorcycle flies by them. The stuffy air in the back of the van hangs stiff in the space between them. Bokuto runs his hands along the sticky carpet, bracing himself for Akaashi’s answer. 

“Fine. When I’m ready…I’ll tell you.”

And finally, the tension holding them tight relaxes, and Bokuto can breath again. “Promise?”

Akaashi turns and looks at him. “I promise.”

Bokuto smiles, satisfied. “Okay. Until then, I guess I’ll have to stick to other questions...Akaashi, what’s you favorite food?”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. This is important information!”

“In that case...Nanohana no Karashiae.”

“What? That stuff’s gross!”

“Bokuto-san!”

 

 

**xxx. Tsukishima Kei**

_ (Oct. 6) _

“Are you done with those?”

Tsukishima glances up from his burger. Yamaguchi points hopefully at his box of fries. Yamaguchi’s own platter is completely clear, not even a lick of salt left in his large carton of fries. 

He pushes the box towards Yamaguchi, who’s already digging his fingers in it.

Normally Tsukishima would tease Yamaguchi about his voracious fry appetite, but at this point, Tsukishima’s just glad he’s eating. He hopes that means he’s on his way to recovery. 

Yamaguchi points at him with a particularly long fry. “This is an excellent batch of fries,” he says as the fry slowly droops into a parabola. “See this? This is what I’m talking about. Prime soggy fries right here.” 

Tsukishima smirks. “I can’t understand why you like those gross things.” 

“You just don’t have any taste,” Yamaguchi says, shoving another fry in his mouth, this one equally soggy. Suddenly, he stops chewing for a moment. 

“Wait. Did you save the soggy fries for me?”

Tsukishima scoffs. “No.”

“You totally did!” Yamaguchi gushes. “Thanks, Tsukki.”

For the last few days, Yamaguchi has been acting uncharacteristically happy. At least, uncharacteristic compared to the last few weeks. He’s acting like he had before all of this started, before Tsukishima started to question tithing, even before Akiteru was unwound. The dissonance between Yamaguchi’s actions and their situation now unsettles him. 

He waits for him to finish half of the fries before asking, “Yamaguchi...how, uh, how are you?”

“Fine, what does it look?” he says a little too quickly. “How about you, Tsukki?”

Tsukishima frowns. That was definitely a lie. “I could be better,” he answers. 

Yamaguchi toys with the fries, one in each hand, crossing them, then pulling them apart, then crossing them again. “Yeah, well, we’re in kind of a shitty situation,” Yamaguchi says with a fake laugh. 

Tsukishima grabs his wrists, stopping the french fries from moving. “You don’t have to act like that around me. I know you’re still struggling.”

Yamaguchi pulls his hands away and drops his gaze. He begins nibbling at his french fries silently. 

Tsukishima snatches a fry from the box and begins nibbling at it too, waiting for Yamaguchi’s response. 

Eventually, when Yamaguchi only has a nub of fry left, he speaks. “Yeah, well. I think I’m doing this more for me? Tricking myself into thinking I’m alright by acting like everything’s normal. Fake it ‘til you make it, right?”

Tsukishima nods. He didn’t quite understand how that would help, but it it helped his friend, then he could pretend that everything was normal, too. Yamaguchi had an odd way of dealing with things - or maybe Tsukishima was the odd one, preferring to bottle things up. Like his anger with Akiteru. 

Yamaguchi stands up, and stacks Tsukishima’s empty platter on top of his. “C’mon, Tsukki. We should get moving.”

Tsukishima nods and follows in suit. 

Now that they were getting closer to the Court, anxiety is beginning to itch at his side. Once they find it, he’ll have to part ways with his friend. Yamaguchi may have to go AWOL, but Tsukishima still had a life to get back to. Not that there’s anything of much importance he left behind. But Yamaguchi had told him he wants Tsukishima to go back. And what else was he going to do? He wasn’t an AWOL, he didn’t want to waste their resources when he had a perfectly average home to go back to.

Assuming his parents wanted him back. Maybe he was too problematic for them now. Perhaps he crossed the same line Akiteru had accidently treaded over, and they’d unwind him, too.  

At least then, he would know what to do, where to go. A place where people weren’t apt to dismember their children into parts for quick cash. A place where people saw through the media’s brainwashing. 

Either way, he and Yamaguchi had to part ways. But what if he relapses, and wants to be unwound after all? Four years is a long time to change his mind. And Tsukishima won’t be there to watch over him. 

Tsukishima won’t be with him at all. 

These are the questions that will keep him up at night. Which is irritating, because Tsukishima likes his sleep very much. 

“Hey,” Yamaguchi says. “You ready?”

“Are you?” Tsukishima fires back. 

“Not really,” Yamaguchi admits. “But we should keep moving.” 

He takes his hand, and Tsukishima goes limp. Yamaguchi drags him out of the McDonald’s like a rag doll, and Tsukishima is helpless but to follow. 

  
  


**xxxi. Oikawa Tooru**

_ (Oct. 6) _

Oikawa Tooru is not an outdoors person. 

He’d been wandering around this damn mountain for days, and nothing. No sign of any secret base. No sign of any people at all, besides the harvest camp. But Oikawa kept his distance from there. 

Maybe that Yamaguchi kid was lying. Maybe there wasn’t a base around here. But why would he lie? He had no reason to mislead Oikawa like that. Plus, Tsukki had kept him from saying any more about it. That must mean they were telling the truth, right? 

The moment he wakes up that morning, the soreness hits him. After hiking all day for three days straight, his limbs feel like rocks. Volleyball kept him in shape, but this was something else entirely. 

Lounging across the rock-hard motel bed, Oikawa lets out a loud, heavy sigh. Then he lets out another. He hopes he’s loud enough so that the people in the next room can hear his anguish. Because he is damn tired of hiking. 

Maybe he’s going about this the wrong way. Maybe he should have followed Yamaguchi and his salty friend instead of some vague, untrustworthy directions they gave him. Hell, he didn’t know if this would even amount to anything, anyway. 

But they were long gone, and Oikawa only had this lead. 

With another, even longer, even louder sigh, Oikawa pulls out his laptop. He stares at the Yahoo homepage for a few minutes. Walking around is getting him nowhere. He needs a bird’s eye view - or, a satellite's camera view!

He pulls up Google Earth and narrows in on Mt. Taihaku, zooming in until he can see each individual tree. He scans the area throughout the mountain for any signs of a base. All he sees are trees, trees, and more trees. 

He expands his search, a little further away from the mountain - and he sees it. A building, not on Mt. Taihaku, but across from it. No roads, no trails lead to it. Oikawa researches into the building, and finds it’s an abandoned cancer research facility. 

That’s it - this is what he’s been looking for, he’s sure of it.

Today, when he sets off in the woods, Oikawa has a skip in his step.

 

After two hours of hiking, Oikawa isn’t skipping anymore.

Just because he has a direction, doesn’t make the woods any less insufferable. Even though it’s begun to grow colder, the sun still shines with a vengeance. Sweat drips down his back, soaking his shirt through. The straps of his backpack dig into his armpits, the back of his shoes shafe against his ankles, his throat stays dry no matter how much water he drinks. A light layer of dirt cakes his uncovered calves and arms. He nearly slips on roots that stick up unexpectedly out of the ground more than once, and has to bat stray leaves out of his way. It’s awful. If he thought the Juvey Training camp was bad, this is ten times worse.

But the absolute worst part of hiking is the  _ reflection _ . Walking hours by himself gives him time to think on things he’d rather not think about. 

He can’t help but wonder why Yamaguchi was going to be unwound. What trouble was hidden under that somber smile? Why did Tsukki travel with him? What were they doing outside of an Juvey Station? Where were they headed now?

He wonders what good Yamaguchi’s parts would do if - when? - he was unwound. 

He thinks of Takeru, probably sitting in school now, thanks to the kidneys from an unwind. And then he thinks about the unwind himself - what did he do to be unwind? What didn’t he do? Where was the rest of him? Who was he? 

Oikawa presses a hand to his lower stomach, rubbing circles around the area. He wonders about the boy his own parts came from. 

His hand slows to a stop. He feels sick. Detached from himself. 

Oikawa forces himself to push on. 

_ Almost there, almost there. _

He doesn’t know what to expect when he gets there. He doesn’t know what he’s going to say, or what kind of lies to make up, to get the information he wants. He should probably play pretend, say he’s an AWOL who’s looking for the Court. That’s where Iwaizumi was, and Iwaizumi was an AWOL, so that wouldn’t be weird to ask, right?

“Hinata, dumbass, it’s the other way!” 

Oikawa’s ears perk up at the sound of another person. Oikawa dashes toward the source of the sound. They must be part of Karasuno - they’ve got to be. 

“But Daichi said to go past the sakura tree!”

“Yeah, so we need to go  _ this _ way.” 

The first voice sounds eerily familiar, though Oikawa’s not sure why. 

His curiosity drags him by a leash towards the voices. The sound of bickering gets closer and closer, until he finally sees them between two trees. He crouches behind one, and looks past them, at the two figures ahead.

There, standing in the clearing, are two boys, yelling at each other. One is short with bright orange hair, and the other - 

_ Crack. _

Oikawa glances down at the broken branch beneath his foot.  _ Shit _ . 

The voices stop. The other figure whips around and locks onto Oikawa. Wide, blue eyes stare straight into his soul. 

“Tobio-chan?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why did i use roman numerals. This was a bad idea. Idk how to numerals
> 
> thank you all for your support! your comments give me life, i can't even express how much they mean so much to me
> 
> next up: a new friendship, an old problem, and an undesired reunion ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)


	11. Politics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa Tooru thinks he might possibly be the Bad Guy. Iwaizumi Hajime is one with nature. Yamaguchi Tadashi sings in the shower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello hello hello i have decided that i will no longer make promises about when this fic will update. i need to be Real with you i have no idea when i'll publish. but rest assured i AM working on it and have every intent to finish
> 
> also you guys are way to nice to me??? stop it (no pls don't actually)
> 
> also shout out to my amazing beta bananaman for putting up with me even though i make the mistake of "suppose to" instead of "supposed to" literally every fucking time

**xxxii. Oikawa Tooru**

_(Oct. 6)_

“Tobio-chan?!”

One look from those steel blue eyes sends a shiver down his spine. He’s like a ghost come back to haunt him.

Oikawa supposes that description isn’t too far from reality.

 _How is he here? How.._.

Kageyama’s eye twitches. He points a shaking finger at Oikawa. “It’s - it’s you! Oh - Oi - uh...”

Oikawa can’t even bring himself to correct him. All he can do is stare at his greatest mistake: the boy he sent to harvest camp, the boy he sentenced to a life in pieces, a boy who stands before him now, very much whole.

_Kageyama’s face is pale and wet with snot and tears, the redness around his wide eyes contrasting their bright blue color -_

_His fear is a tangible thing -_

_crawling through the room and down Oikawa’s throat -_

_“P-p-please,” he warbles -_

_He pulls the trigger -_

“You’re supposed to be unwound,” Oikawa says breathlessly.

Suddenly he remembers the headline he read, only a few weeks ago: _Another Attack on Mt. Taihaku Harvest Camp_. How didn’t he realize it earlier? It was Karasuno attacking the harvest camp, it was Karasuno breaking unwinds out. And if Kageyama was sent to Mt. Taihaku...

His knees shake as a wave of emotion hits him. Shock at seeing Kageyama in the last place he’d expect. Guilt for being faced to look Kageyama in the eye. And relief - god, the _relief_ \- that he’s still whole, that Oikawa’s mistake hadn’t led to him being unwound.

All he can do is stand there and stare. Kageyama stares back at him as shell-shocked as he is; neither knows what to do, how to react, what to say - what can they say, after everything that’s happened?

Oikawa doesn’t miss the irony. The genius student forced to go to harvest camp has become a runaway, fighting against the very institution that denied him his existence. And now the one who shot him has come to him for help. The two top contenders in their class have fallen so low.

He’s startled into consciousness by a squeaking voice from Kageyama’s companion, the one he called Hinata.

“Whoa, Kageyama, you know this guy?” he asks. “Who is he? How do you you know each other?”

Kageyama stands frozen, still staring at Oikawa, but Hinata tugs on his sleeve. “Oi! Bakageyama!”

Kageyama flinches. “He…he was at camp with me, when I...he’s the one…”

Hinata drops his hand. His playful tone turns sour when he slowly looks back at Oikawa. “Wait...does that mean he’s a Juvey cop?”

Kageyama turns to look at Hinata. His eyes widen in realization. They turn back to him, snarling like dogs.

 _Fuck_. Oikawa takes a step back. The reality of this situation has finally hit him, too. Kageyama doesn’t know, he doesn’t what has happened - his last memory of Oikawa was him shooting him in the leg. As far as he knows, Oikawa has completed the program, and is working with the Juvies now. Oikawa can’t blame him if Kageyama sees him as the bad guy.

 _Am I the bad guy?_ Oikawa asks himself.

Oikawa waves his hands out in front of him. “Wait wait wait, I’m not a Junior Juvey, I never even finished ca - ”

“Shut _up!”_ Kageyama shouts. The edge in his voice is as heavy and cold as steel. His glare locks onto Oikawa, eyes red with an emotion that Oikawa never saw from him before. It’s not the frightened, angry look of an  AWOL. This is flat-out hatred. And it’s directed towards him.

A chill runs through him. Even though he knows it’s well deserved, Oikawa’s a bit peeved. _If he’d just listen to me…_

He takes a step back, trying to find to words to defend himself, but the composure he prides himself on has left him in the dust. “H-hey! You didn’t even let me finish talking! I came to find you guys, to find Karasuno!”

Their eyes narrow suspiciously. _Shit. That sounds bad._ His nerves are so wrecked, he keeps fucking up, digging himself deeper into a hole that’s already miles below the surface. They’ve got dirt on him and Oikawa’s only soiling himself further.

“We need to bring him in,” Kageyama growls, his fists clenching tightly. “Daichi can tell us what to do about a _spy_.”

 _Shit._ _Fuck_. This is not how he wanted this day to go. He can’t let this happen, not now, not when he’s come so far, when he’s so close to finding Iwaizumi.

Oikawa turns around and runs.

Two war cries sound from behind him, and he hears the pattering of feet against the dirt.

He flies through the forest, dodging stray branches and hopping over protruding roots, praying that he’s still faster than Kageyama.

Suddenly a blur of orange dives in front of him. _How the hell -_

Oikawa digs his heels into the dirt and switches directions, but Hinata jumps in front of him, snarl on his face. “I’m not letting you get away!” he shouts.

Oikawa smirks. “Is that so?”

Hinata may be fast but Oikawa is much taller and stronger than him. Oikawa snatches him by his shoulders and throws him to the side, sending him barreling towards a thick tree trunk. Oikawa hears the smack of his body against bark as he takes off again.

He’s only made it two steps when Kageyama pops out in front of him, fire in his eyes. _Shit - the stupid shorty gave Tobio-chan enough time to catch up!_

Kageyama throws himself at him, tackling him to the ground. His back hits the ground painfully, knocking the breath out of him. He kicks his legs frantically, but Kageyama sits stubbornly on his chest, arms holding down his collarbone, dangerously close to his throat. Panic sets in, a screeching alarm that’s telling his body to run.

Oikawa forces himself to reel in his emotions. “I see you’ve retained your training, Tobio-chan,” he teases, bring his foot just outside of Kageyama’s leg.

He grins. “But so have I.”

He snatches Kageyama’s arm and pulls him down. Kageyama topples over to his right with a shout. As his back hits the ground Oikawa rolls on top of him, securing himself on Kageyama’s torso.  

Oikawa grins. Now he’s on top of Kageyama. He just needs to knock him out and then he can -

_Smack!_

A burst of pain swells on the back of his head before Oikawa falls to the ground and blacks out.

 

When he wakes, it’s dark out. Or maybe it’s just the room that’s dark.

Speaking of...where is he? Oikawa tries to sit up, to see where he is.

He lets out a moan; the back of his head throbs, and a headache pounds against his forehead. He tries brings his hands up to rub his temples, only to realize they’re tied behind his back. His kicks his feet - they’re tied together too. Oikawa groans. His throat is parched, and his backpack is gone, and he doesn’t know where the fuck he is.

He vaguely remembers finding Kageyama in the woods, and his orange haired friend, and he remembers running and then - and then being knocked out.

It must have been the shorty. He must have snuck up on him and hit him with a branch or something while he was preoccupied with Kageyama.

 _Fuck_. This was not how this day was supposed to go. At all.

He leans his head back against the wall behind him, baring his throat to the ceiling. His butt’s falling asleep against the hard concrete floor. The end of the zip-tie holding his wrists together pokes into his back, and the plastic edges chafe his skin. This is the second time since Iwaizumi was taken away that he’s had his hands tied behind his back. It makes him want to throw up. He hates being bound this way - he hates feeling powerless.

It takes a while, but his headache starts to fade, and his eyes begin to adjust to the darkness. Light peaks out from under a doorway a few feet across from him. Bars of shadows move across it, along with the clack of footsteps.

The door squeaks open, and Oikawa tenses in apprehension.

Three people walk inside: two he doesn’t recognize, and then, Kageyama.

His fists clench. Even though Oikawa knows the truth now, seeing him again is still a shock.

He glances at the other two. One has short, dark hair and a square jaw, and the other has ashy, blonde hair and a slight figure. Their eyes don’t blaze with the same intensity as Kageyama’s do. From the way they stand tall in front of him, and the way Kageyama cowers behind them, Oikawa guesses they’re the ones in charge.

The one with ashy blonde hair closes the door and pushes in front of the other two.

The other one reaches a hand towards him. “Suga - ”

“Let me handle this,” Suga asserts, straying away from the other’s hand.

He stands at Oikawa’s feet, looming over him, expressionless.

Oikawa sits up straighter, trying to make up for their difference in height. He wants to stand - he’s sure he’d be taller than this guy - but with his feet tied, he can’t.

If the Suga notices Oikawa’s attempt, he doesn’t show it.

“Kageyama’s told us a lot about you,” he says.

Oikawa smirks. “All good things, I’m sure.”

_Slap!_

Oikawa’s head is wretched to the side, leaving a sharp sting on his cheek.

“Suga!”

Oikawa looks back at Suga in shock - this bitch had the nerve to slap him. And it _hurt_.

Suga doesn’t seem phased. He even ignores the redness of his hand. “Now, that’s not a joking matter,” he says.

The shock wears off, and Oikawa forces himself to laugh. He can’t show weakness here. “That was...refreshing,” he says.

This whole situation is so ridiculous. He wants to act out, to hit and bite and yell, but bound like this, he’s at their mercy. Who knows what these people might do. They’re Anti-Unwind rebels - they’re dangerous. Oikawa should have had his guard raised; what was he thinking, trying to find them unarmed?

The sting in his cheek reminds him that all he has is his wit, a weapon that must be used sparingly, with precision.  

Suga crouches down in front of him. There’s not a burning hatred in his eyes, like Kageyama’s. But there’s something there that unsettles him. Something unhinged.

“He says you went to the Junior Juvey camp with him,” Suga says.

“I did.”

“He also says you were the one who caught him.”

The words are stuck in his throat, but Oikawa forces them out. “...I was.”

Suga doesn’t react. One minute he slapped him, the other, he’s completely void of emotion. Oikawa can’t get a read on him, and it’s irritating him. “So. What are you doing here? Are you here to hunt us down? Did they send you?”

“What, no!” Oikawa protests. “No, I told Tobio - I told Kageyama already, I’m not a Juvey cop! I didn’t even finish training! I - after Kageyama... _left_...I quit the camp.”

“Why the hell would you do that?” Kageyama interrupts, surging out from behind the other guy.

He grabs Kageyama by the arm, holding him back. “Kageyama!” he warns. “You said if I let you come here, you’d promise to be quiet.”

Kageyama looks down. “Sorry, Daichi-san.” He stands down, but grits his teeth together.

Oikawa leaves Kageyama’s question unanswered. Explaining his inner turmoil to the person who had to suffer because of it...he can’t do that.

Suga just stares at him. The silence stretches out, and Oikawa fidgets uncomfortably.

“If you’re going to question me, can’t you at least untie my hands?” Oikawa asks.

A small, teasing smile forms on Suga’s lips. Ignoring his question, he asks, “Why are you here?”

Oikawa remembers the lie he thought of earlier. “I - My parents decided to unwind me after all, I’m an AWOL like you - ”

“Bullshit,” Kageyama interrupts. Again. “I don’t believe you. What reason would they have to unwind you?”

“Kageyama,” Daichi cautions.

“Kageyama has a point,” Suga says. “And I think he has a better read on you than we do. So, let me ask again. Why are you here?”

“I told you, I’m an AWOL - ”

“Why?” Suga interrupts. “What’s your reason for being unwound?”

There’s lots of reasons, as Oikawa has found. Maybe his parents had died and left his shitty aunt to deal with him. Maybe he’d been storked to a shitty couple.

He looks to Daichi, bottom lip jutting in a pout. This guy seems the most reasonable and normal out of the tribunal. But Daichi just stares at him eyebrow cocked.

“You don’t believe me either, do you,” Oikawa says.

Daichi smiles sympathetically. “No, I don’t. Why don’t you try telling the truth?”

Oikawa takes a moment to think about it, and decides that maybe Daichi was right. The trick to lying was knowing when to tell the truth. In this case, the truth might actually be his best option.

“I’m looking for someone,” Oikawa tells them, directing his statement at Daichi. “My boyfriend.”

“Your boyfriend?” he asks.

“Iwaizumi...Hajime.” Oikawa says. The words slip from his lips easily, but burn his throat like acid. He hasn’t said that name in weeks. Saying it aloud makes this reality so much more real. “He - he was a stork, and his parents, they needed money, so they...they sent him to be unwound. But he got away, before he got to harvest camp. He’s at someplace called the Court.”

If this is going to work, he needs them to feel his fervor. His desperation. Because right now, that’s all he has.

“I need to get to him,” Oikawa tells them. “Please…”

Suga and Daichi glance at each other. Kageyama just looks down, his arms crossed. His eyebrows ease in a fleeting softness, but just as quickly, the hatred is back.

“S’not so nice now, being on the other side, is it?” Kageyama says.

Oikawa considers the question, and then snorts. Kageyama doesn’t see the irony in the statement, apparently. “I suspect you’d know better than anyone, Tobio-chan.”

Kageyama’s eyes widen.

Oikawa looks directly at him, determined to make him understand. “Don’t forget, you were in the same place as me.”

Kageyama pales at that. He recedes into himself, hugging his arms close against his stomach. He doesn’t look at Oikawa anymore.

“Look, I don’t want any trouble,” Oikawa says to Suga and Daichi. “I just want to find Hajime. Do you know where the Court is? If you tell me, I’ll leave you alone. I won’t ever come back, and I won’t tell anyone. I told you, I’m not a Juvey Cop, and - and I never will be. I know what I’ve done and I - I...”

Silence falls. Some kind of emotion crosses across Suga’s face, Oikawa’s sure of it.

“Please help me.”

Suga stands up and backs away. They stare at him for a while longer. He really hates how they look at him like he’s an animal up for sale, like he’s a poor child asking them for scraps.

Finally, Daichi says, “Suga, let’s talk about this.”

“Fine.” He points a finger at Oikawa. “You...stay here for now.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Oikawa says sarcastically, shrugging his shoulders, reminding them that he’s tied up here.

They leave him alone, in the dark again, hands still tied and throat still parched.

 

 

**xxxiii. Iwaizumi Hajime**

_(Oct. 7)_

For the first time in weeks, Iwaizumi breathes in a deep breath of fresh, clean air. He sits on the _engawa,_ a wooden veranda wrapped around the perimeter of the house, feet dangling over the edge. The balls of his bare feet brush the ground, drawing squiggles in the moist soil. Beams of sunlight slot through the trees, highlighting his skin in bands, kissing it with a warmth Iwaizumi has longed for. A blue, cloudless sky arcs above him, a view bordered by trees of the deepest green that that surround his newest safehouse, a solitary house deep in the woods, owned by an equally solitary old man. Yet this isolation affords him the freedom to finally go outside. The traditional Japanese styled house is odd to see in this era of innovation, but Iwaizumi likes it. It’s a symbol of better times left behind. Here, he can finally see the sun.

As happy as he is to finally relax in the outdoors, his heart hangs heavy. Iwaizumi likes his solitude, but he hates to be alone. Staring off into the forest, silent but for the chirp of birds and the occasional cicada’s scream, loneliness overcomes him in a slow, strong wave.

When it came time for him to part ways with Kuroo and Kenma, he was more than a little disappointed. He feels closer to them than any of the others he was housed with. Even though he hadn’t spent very long with them, the camaraderie that came from disarming the tranqs with them was strong.

He wonders where their new safehouse is. He wonders if he’ll ever see them again; maybe they’ll see each other once they reach the Court. He doesn’t know how big the Court is, or how many people take refuge there, but he vows to search for them once he arrives there.

There’s also the discontent that comes with the environment. The tranquility is as maddening as it is calming. Now that he’s had a taste of rebellion, Iwaizumi longs to taste it again. He craves the empowerment that comes from fighting back. Waiting here, in the peaceful woods away from civilization, so far removed from reality, he fears he’ll forget about the battle they’re fighting. He can’t fully enjoy this paradise knowing about the atrocities going on back in the real world. He wants to return to the warzone.

Maybe the safe house isn’t where he needs to be right now. He needs to be on the front lines, where he can make a difference.

The whine of an engine distracts him from those thoughts. Iwaizumi perks up and watches as an old van pulls up around the back of the house, no doubt carrying the new drop-offs.

He gets up and walks along the _engawa_ to the back of the house, towards the van; he wonders what kind of people they are. After an evening alone with the quiet old man, he’s desperate to talk to someone.

“Whoa, Akaashi, is this really a safe house?”

Iwaizumi watches as two boys file out of the van. One has white and black streaked hair that falls in waves in his face, round, golden eyes, and a tall, broad figure. He bounces around, looking back and forth for only a moment before moving onto the next thing. The other, though nearly as tall, has a slighter figure, and curly black hair. He stands still as a statue, looking up at the treetops with his mouth slightly open. Iwaizumi grins. He did the same thing when he arrived here yesterday.

The old man comes out of his house to greet them. While he to talks with the van driver, Iwaizumi goes and greets the two new AWOLs.

“Hey,” he says as he approaches them. “It’s a pretty nice view, isn’t it?”

Both of them have to tear their gazes away from the landscape to redirect their attention at him. Iwaizumi holds out his hand. “I’m Iwaizumi Hajime.”

The one with the weird hair takes his hand and shakes it eagerly. “Hi! I’m Bokuto Koutarou! And this is - well, I’ll let him introduce himself.”

The curly haired boy gives him a respectful nod. There’s a sleepy look in his eyes that seems eerily familiar. “Akaashi,” he says.

“Just Akaashi?”

“Just Akaashi.”

Iwaizumi supposes that’s fair. “Nice to meet you. Do you two know each other?”

Bokuto grabs Akaashi’s hand and proudly holds it up between them. “Yup! We’re dating!”

He watches their clasped hands, and the blush on Akaashi’s face. “Oh.”

Just then, he hears the van’s engine start. They watch as the van drives away, swallowed up by the trees. The old man approaches them, smiling softly. “Iwaizumi-san, would you be so kind as to show these young men around?”

Iwaizumi bows his head. “Of course, sir.”

The old man nods at each of them, then slowly walks back inside.

“Is...is that it?” Bokuto asks.

“Yeah, he’s not very talkative,” Iwaizumi says with a laugh. “I’ve been here with him for a full day and that was the longest sentence he’s said to me.”

“That’s okay!” Bokuto says. “He’s letting us stay here already, so he must be a good guy. And we get to be outside! Wait, do we get to be outside? I mean, I assume so, since we were dropped off in the daytime, and we’re out here now, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything, so…”

As Bokuto trails off, Iwaizumi almost wants to ask _Are you done?_ , but holds his tongue. “Yeah, we’re allowed outside. Just don’t stray too far from the house. Let me show you the rest, okay?”

“Okay! Awesome, a tour! Are you ready for the tour, Akaashi?” Bokuto turns to his partner, but Akaashi is looking into the woods again, with the same expression of awe on his face. “...Akaashi? You okay?”

Akaashi looks back at them, eyes smiling. They’re the same color as the nature around him. “I’ve never seen so much green before,” Akaashi says joyfully.

Bokuto’s mouth drops open. “Oh.”

“You’ll get to enjoy it later, I promise,” Iwaizumi says. “Just wait until you see the front yard.”

That seems to catch Akaashi’s attention. “Front yard?”

“Yeah, there’s a sakura tree.”

Akaashi’s eyes widen. “Can we see that first?” he asks eagerly.

Iwaizumi grins. These two seem a little odd, but he thinks they’ll make good company. He begins walking back to the front, waving for them to follow. “I don’t see why we can’t start there.”

 

The house reminds him of the Oikawa’s summer home. Every summer, the Oikawas would spend a month in their home in the mountains, and Iwaizumi was always invited. He and Oikawa would spend days on end playing together, collecting beetles and splashing around in the nearby stream. He remembers watching sunsets sink along the horizon, orange skies bruising purple. And then there was quiet; a silence that went beyond the mere absence of sound and became a physical thing, a tangible barrier that encapsulated their tiny cabin in a bubble and made them feel like the only two people in the universe. Truly natural spaces were harder to find than ever in this age, but Iwaizumi loved nature, he loved how the world was before society trampled over it.

The silence here is the same, but it feels less like a protective bubble and more like a prison, bars made of tree trunks sealing him away from reality. The green leaves and the blue skies mock him, reminding him of the cuffs that bind him to a life as a refugee rather than a soldier.

Clearly Bokuto and Akaashi don’t feel the same. They spend the day awing at the the flowering trees and twining roots, hand in hand.

He may not feel the same, but Iwaizumi is willing to indulge them.

Later that night, when the old man has long gone to sleep, and the coldness of night has eclipsed the sun’s warmth, Iwaizumi ushers Bokuto and Akaashi outside.

“Iwaizumi-san. Not that I don’t your judgement, but you better have a good reason for taking us out this late,” Akaashi says, eyebrows set in a hard line.

“Trust me, it’ll be worth it,” Iwaizumi says.

He thinks Akaashi mumbles something in response, but Iwaizumi can’t understand him, so he doesn’t respond.

“It’s okay, ‘Kaashi, if you get too tired, I’ll carry you,” Bokuto says.

Iwaizumi snorts. Bokuto may be tall, but Akaashi is almost equally as tall, and just because he’s thin doesn’t mean he’s light. Iwaizumi knows this due to the amount of times Oikawa has thrown himself in his arms. “I don’t know if you could handle that,” Iwaizumi says skeptically.

Bokuto smirks, pushing up his sleeves. “Oh yeah? You wanna bet?”

And then he scoops Akaashi up in his arms like he’s nothing more than a ragdoll.

Iwaizumi has to admit, he’s impressed.

“Bokuto-san - !” Akaashi screeches, squirming in Bokuto’s arms. “Put me down!”

Bokuto hefts him up and holds him tighter. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna drop you!”

Bokuto begins matching around, and Akaashi clutches onto his shoulders, but Bokuto keeps a hold of him. “All aboard the SS Bokuto! Toot toot!” Bokuto announces as he weaves through the trees. Akaashi buries his face into Bokuto’s neck. Iwaizumi’s about to tell Bokuto to put Akaashi down, he’s scared, but then he sees that Akaashi’s just laughing.

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. They’re so disgustingly cute, it almost makes him sick. Is this what their friends meant when they said he and Oikawa had to tone it down? But they were definitely not this bad. Probably.

“Hey, guys, come back, we’re going in the other direction,” he calls to them.

Iwaizumi waits with his arms crossed as Bokuto comes trudging back to him. In the nighttime, he can just make out their outline. And a pair of glowing, green eyes.

“Bokuto - please tell me that’s you…”

He steps into the moonlight - it’s just Bokuto and Akaashi after all. Iwaizumi breathes a sigh of relief. “Oh - yeah! Yeah, they’re pigment injections, don’t worry,” Bokuto says with a laugh. “Why? Who did you think it was?”

There’s no way he’s going to admit his second guess was extraterrestrials. After spending so much time with Oikawa and his alien conspiracy theories, Iwaizumi can’t help but be suspicious himself. _Thanks for that, Tooru._

Once he recovers his wits, Iwaizumi leads them up to a clearing, only a few minutes away from the house.

“Look up,” Iwaizumi tells them.

They do, and they’re instantly dazzled. Out here, far from the worst of light pollution, stars sprinkle the black night like a million sugar crystals spilled on purple frosting. They twinkle and shine across the entire vastness that spreads on forever and ever in every direction.

They lie down and stare up at the sky. He glances over at the other two. Bokuto’s mouth is still open in amazement. Akaashi smiles at the stars, their light reflecting off his eyes.

Iwaizumi remember the first time Oikawa showed him the night sky in the countryside. He thought Oikawa was exaggerating when he told him how beautiful the country sky was. That was the first time he admitted Oikawa was right. They lied on their back and stared at it for hours, just like he’s doing now.

God, he misses that. He misses _him_.

He feels almost guilty laying with Bokuto and Akaashi now, like he’s somehow betraying Oikawa by doing this. There’s nothing wrong with them, but they’re not _Oikawa_.

He shifts awkwardly to the side. It’s been bothering him for awhile, but there’s something about Akaashi that is undeniably familiar. He knows his face from somewhere, he’s sure of it. But he’s never met anyone named Akaashi.

“Hey Akaashi, what’s your first name?” Iwaizumi asks.

He waits for a responses, counting the seconds as they pass by. Ten seconds. Twenty. Nothing.

“Akaashi?”

He looks next to him, but Akaashi’s eyes are closed.

“I think he’s asleep,” Bokuto whispers loudly.

“Oh.”

Iwaizumi doesn’t believe him. He was awake just a moment ago. He lets it go, but he can’t shake the thought that there must be some reason he’s hiding his name. It’s suspicious.

Akaashi seems like a good guy, and there’s nothing wrong with wanting privacy, but he decides he’ll be a little more wary around Akaashi from now on.

He hears the scuffle of dirt and turns his head, and watches as Bokuto stands up and wipes the dirt from his backside, eyes glowing like another pair of stars. “I’m going to take him inside,” Bokuto says. He kneels down next to Akaashi and gently picks him up, princess style. He tucks him close to his chest, so Akaashi’s head rests against his pecs. “Are you going to come in, too?” Bokuto asks.

Iwaizumi eyes Bokuto’s arms for a moment, then shakes his head. “Not yet.”

“Oh. Okay. Goodnight then.” Bokuto begins to walk away, but turns around once more. “And thanks for showing us around. And showing us the sky. It’s really beautiful out here.”

Iwaizumi smiles. “No problem. Goodnight.”

“‘Night.”

He watches Bokuto carry his boyfriend away in his arms, and once again, just like with Kuroo and Kenma, jealousy rises within him. How was it fair the they got to be together, when he and Oikawa couldn’t?

His jealousy tends to the embers of rage that burn deep within him, slowly but surely growing into a fire that burns strong with envy.

 

 

**xxxiv. Yamaguchi Tadashi**

_(Oct. 9)_

The first thing he sees is the banner.

_Sometimes the sum of the parts is greater than the whole!_

It’s written in bold, white strokes against a bright green background. Five people marching proudly hold it up, stretching it from one side of the street to the other. Behind them, a parade of people flood the street, holding signs that read “Unwinding Saves Lives” and “Save Our Harvest Camp!” and “Proud to be a Tithe.” The wide variety of people marching is astounding, rich and the poor, the old and the young banding together. Since there are people from nearly every other age group, the absence of a single teenager seems even more prominent.

A small layer of people gathers along the side of the street, watching the crowd go by. Some are awed, some are disgusted. But everybody watches.

A truck drives through the middle of the crowd, carrying three people standing up on the seats. One of them holds a microphone, shouting, “Call your representative! Let them hear your voices! Do not let the mayor defund our harvest camp! Our harvest camp is local so our hospitals can have organs fresh, clean, and quickly! If that is taken away from us, our organ bank - ”

“Hey.” Tsukki shakes his shoulder. “You okay?”

Yamaguchi, without taking his eyes off the sight, gives a quick nod.

Yamaguchi knows Tsukki would prefer to avoid civilization, but there’s only city between them and the Court now. That’s why they’re here now, standing among the crowd lining the street, watching this protest in the middle of Kakuda instead of hiding out in the forest.

They found it by accident. They were drawn to the crowd people, and came face to face with this. But now that he’s seen it, Yamaguchi can’t look away.

“It looks like the government’s trying to shut down their harvest camp,” Tsukki says. “These weirdos don’t seem too happy about that.”

Yamaguchi gulps. “No kidding…”

The protesters march down the street, their heads held high, banner leading their way through the middle of the city. “Will we force our children to transition in a foreign city?” the man on the truck shouts.

“No!” the crowd yells back.

“Will we let the government interfere with our property?”

“No!”

“Will we let our voices be silenced?”

“No!”

He’s heard of protests like this before. He’s heard the pro-winding arguments and has wholeheartedly agreed with them. But now, after everything he’s gone through, he sees their words in an entirely different light. It’s like he’s suddenly been given a new pair of eyes - or, a pair of glasses - and now that’s finally able to see clearly, he can tell how bad his vision truly was. Now everything is crystal clear. And what he sees is disturbing.

“Tch.” Tsukki grabs his hand. “What does it matter if their kids are dismembered here or in the next town over? The result is the same.”

As much as it horrifies him, Yamaguchi understands why the protesters feel the way they do. “It’s less scary if it’s familiar,” Yamaguchi tells him. The prospect of being unwound far from home was scary. Knowing the local harvest camp - even if he never saw it - had been a comfort to him.

Now that he can see more clearly, he thinks that maybe it was one of their tactics. Normalize harvest camp, be comforted by familiarity. Make him feel right at home, make him compliant.

The truck passes them by, and cheers arise as the next float comes through. A floating platform carries twenty people, standing tall and waving enthusiastically at the crowd. A flashing sign above their heads reads, _“I lived because I got parts from Tokurasan Harvest Camp!”_

Each one has a word written across their chests. “Lungs.” “Pancreas.” “Legs.” “Heart.”

Yamaguchi runs his free hand over his chest.

Tsukki tugs his hand, but Yamaguchi can’t bring himself to move quite yet. Not when the floating platform passes by, revealing the next group. An army of women wearing white marches in a perfect regiment. Many of them have with them a child dressed in green. They all carry neat signs that boast, _“Mothers of Tithes for Tokurasan.”_

Tsukki tugs his hand harder. “Yamaguchi, let’s go.”

Yamaguchi nods. This isn’t the place for them. But just as he turns to leave, he sees the woman standing next to them, watching the crowd. She’s holding a child above her hip. The child, still in diapers, wears a bright green onesie.

Yamaguchi’s heart clenches.

“Look, honey,” the woman says, pointing at the crowd. “One day, you’ll be saving lives too, right here at home.”

The baby just gurgles happily. _He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know. Like I didn’t know -_

“Yamaguchi!” Tsukki yells, yanking his arm. “Come on!”

Yamaguchi swallows, takes one last look at the child, and lets Tsukki drag him away from the parade.

 

That night, they settle in a motel on the outskirts of town. The place seems kind of sketchy, but they had accepted Tsukki and Yamaguchi without questions. Ever since the Unwind Accord, hotels rarely accepted underage kids without an adult guardian by their side. Any kid without an adult holding their leash was an AWOL in the minds of business. And no one wanted to get on the bad side of the Juvies by hosting an AWOL.

But there were some places, like this one, that were so desperate for customers that they accepted the two teenagers without any questions. It was easy to see why; it’s just far enough away from the rest of town to be inconvenient, there’s a layer of grime coating the building, and it smells of fish and urine. It may not be a five star hotel, but it beats living in a tent. After braving the outdoors for more than two weeks, just the fact that there’s running water seems like a luxury.

As soon as they open the door to their room, Yamaguchi rushes into the bathroom and takes a much needed shower.

There’s a song stuck in his head, and he sings it to himself while he washes off.

_“You think you know me now_

_That I’m under your microscope_

_But you don’t know anything at all_

_Not my flaws, my strengths, my hopes.”_

He’s sung it on loop in his head ever since they left the parade, a barrier to block out any other intruding thoughts. He’s listened to it enough times in the past to know every strum of the guitar and every beat of the drum, he’s sang it enough times to know  all the lyrics. There’s something about the words that resonate with him. He didn’t understand before, why he liked it so much, but now, he thinks he understands why. The words, the melody, comforts him.

_“You shoved me in a costume_

_For I role I’d never play_

_I acted as the perfect part_

_You claimed it was cliche.”_

Once he’s scrubbed the buildup of dirt off his skin three times over, he steps out of the shower and dries himself in a ratty towel. He pulls on his clothes - boxers, an old pair of flannel pajama pants, and one of Tsukki’s old shirts. It’s red. Yamaguchi isn’t used to wearing red. It feels uncomfortable and exhilarating, like wearing jeans to a wedding. He may not have the guts to confront harvest camps head on like Karasuno, but this, this red shirt, is his own little rebellion.

_“You only saw my outline_

_Not the colors deep inside_

_Never saw the muddied color storm_

_Become bright and unified.”_

He hangs the towel around his neck and gathers his dirty clothes. He pushes the door open and throws his clothes next to the bed.

_“I’m not who you think I am!_

_I’m not an archetype!_

_I’m not the ideal model for your perfect prototype - ”_

“What are you singing?”

Yamaguchi jumps, smacking his toe against the bed frame. “OW!” he shouts, keeling over the grab his foot. Once the pain starts to ebb, he looks up to see Tsukki leaning against the door. Yamaguchi grabs his shirt right above his heart. “Tsukki...you scared me.”

“Oops,” he says sarcastically.

Yamaguchi rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I can tell how sorry you are.” He rubs his toe again.

Tsukki smirks, and asks again, “So, the song…?”

Yamaguchi flops onto the bed and curls up on the right side, pulling the covers around his face to hide his blush. He didn’t realize he was singing so loudly, he would have stopped himself if he remembered Tsukki would be listening.

“It’s called “You Don’t Know Me Now.” It’s by...FUKURO4, I think?” Yamaguchi says.

Tsukki sits on the edge of the bed, balancing precariously on the edge, like a glass that could fall at any moment. “Oh.”

“Do you know them?” Yamaguchi asks.

“Yeah. I thought I recognized the song.”

Yamaguchi wraps the blanket tight around his knees. “It’s a good song,” he says.

“Yeah,” Tsukki agrees.

They sit on the bed, Yamaguchi running the song through his head again.

_You shoved me in a costume_

_For I role I’d never play_

_I acted as the perfect part_

_You claimed it was cliche._

Tsukki falls back onto the bed, right below Yamaguchi’s feet. His glasses sit crookedly on his face. Yamaguchi reaches over and fixes them for him. His thumb brushes Tsukki’s cheek, and he quickly pulls his hand back.

“I’m hungry,” Tsukki complains.

“Then go get something to eat. There’s vending machines outside - ”

“I don’t want food from the vending machines.”

“Then go out and get us some dinner.”

Tsukki looks up at him, annoyed. “You’re in your pajamas.”

“Who said I was going to come?” Yamaguchi snaps.

Tsukki turns away from him. Immediately, Yamaguchi feels guilty. The last time they were in public, and Tsukki took his eyes off him for a moment, he’d tried to turn himself over to the Juvies. He can’t blame Tsukki for being concerned.

But it’s different, now. Their fight in the parking lot changed how Yamaguchi thought about a lot of things.

Yamaguchi places his hand on Tsukki’s shoulder. “I’m not going to run away, okay?” he explains. “The protest today...you thought it would make me change my mind again, right? I thought that, too, maybe. But it just made me sick. Those mothers...”

The _Mothers For Tokurasan_ had disturbed him more than anything else, because that could have been _his_ mother, dragging him behind her. He could have been the one dressed in green.  

They haven’t talked about the protest since it was out of sight. He can tell the topic has been teetering on the edge of Tsukki’s tongue, Yamaguchi knows he wants to talk about it, but he had a pretty good idea as to what was holding him back. He doesn’t want to hurt Yamaguchi by talking about it. It’s cute, how caring Tsukki can be when it comes to the things he cares about.

Yamaguchi smiles absentmindedly.

_Yeah, he cares about me._

Yamaguchi feels Tsukki’s hand cover his. “You promise?” he says, at a whisper.

“Promise,” Yamaguchi says confidently.

He waits in the room while Tsukki goes out and buys them food. Yamaguchi shouldn’t be surprised when he returns with a bag of McDonald’s.

 

They’ve shared a bed before. This shouldn’t be weird - but it is.

They lie next to each other on their backs, arms pressing together, staring up at the ceiling. The bed is smaller than what they’re used to, and they’re bigger than before, too. Tsukki, who’s always been tall, has shot up like a weed in the past year. His feet stick out from the end of the bed. Yamaguchi wants to tug the blanket down so it’ll wrap around his feet and keep him safe and warm.

He rolls onto his side, facing away from Tsukki. Then he rolls back over onto his stomach. Then back to his side.

“Yamaguchi.”

“Yeah?”

“Stop fidgeting.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

But he can’t help it, he can’t get comfortable. Then, just as he’s about to move again, Tsukki tucks his chin over Yamaguchi’s shoulder, pressing his chest to Yamaguchi’s back. He sighs, warm breath brushing against Yamaguchi’s neck.

It’s a little uncomfortable at first, but Yamaguchi doesn’t want to move and disturb him, so he tries to lie motionless. When he’s this still, he swears he can feel Tsukki’s heartbeat against his back. He wonders if Tsukki can feel his heartbeat too - he’d be surprised if he didn’t. His heart thunders in his chest as loud as a summer storm.

Yamaguchi wants to engrain this moment in his memory, wants to etch this feeling into his skin. If he could just feel like this, loved and safe, all the time, then maybe he can forget his troubles and embrace life in a whole body.

That feeling fades when he realizes where they are. What they’re doing. This moment can’t last. Tsukki’s been through his side through everything - Yamaguchi doesn’t want him to leave. But he doesn’t want to be more of a burden than he has to be. And that means when they finally find the Court, Tsukki has to go his own way.

He sighs, leaning into all the parts of Tsukki that touch him. _Might as well enjoy it while I can._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> do not fuck with suga. Do Not. 
> 
> fun fact: Akaashi is more than an inch taller that Iwa. I always think of Akaashi as smol but he is in fact tol  
> and if you're wondering if i referenced my other fic in this fic, the answer is [yes](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10448220/chapters/23064015)
> 
> next up: angst, more angst, and armwrestling


	12. Competitors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tendou Satori just wants to talk about Shonen Jump. Oikawa Tooru is tired of being in the closet. Kageyama Tobio broods on the roof. Bokuto “do you even lift” Koutarou faces down Iwaizumi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *rolls up 1 month later with 8k words* hey hey hey how are y'all doing i have finals in a week and i decided to update this instead of studying. you can thank [tsucchi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tsucchi/pseuds/Tsucchi) for that they unintentionally inspired me thanks for that dude

**xxxv. Tendou Satori**

_(Oct. 9)_

 

 _“Oikawa Tooru_ visited you?”

“Yes.”

Tendou’s eyebrows shoot up. He can’t believe Ushijima is only telling him about this now. “The same Oikawa Tooru that we had training camp with? The one that shot that kid and then ran off?”

“That is what I said.”

Tendou falls back onto Ushijima’s bed, tucking his arms behind his head. Ushijima watches him from where he sits cross-legged on the floor, the latest edition of Shonen Jump lain out before him. Just like he did every weekend, Tendou had brought him a copy of Shonen Jump to read, so he could talk to someone about his favorite chapters.

But nowadays, their weekend hang-outs usually turned into boring conversations about Shiratorizawa. Ever since Ushijima first suggested doing something about the unwind crisis back during their first year of high school, Tendou had become part of Ushijima’s inner circle. They discovered the existence of Shiratorizawa a few years ago, but it was only since this last summer they were finally able to carry out their part to become undercover agents. Things had become busy, and more often than not, they talked about future plans and how their missions went. Normally, Tendou found it incredibly tedious.

For once, this conversation is far more interesting than Shonen Jump.

“Shit. What’d he want?” Tendou asks, kicking his feet up and down.

“His boyfriend is in the system,” Ushijima says. “Shirabu and I helped him out a couple of weeks ago, I believe.”

Tendou guffaws. “That’s hilarious!” he says between laughs. “Oh, this is too good! He was so obsessed with unwinding and now, his S.O.’s gone AWOL. Ha! The irony, Wakatoshi, the _irony!”_

“It is an interesting development,” Ushijima agrees.

Tendou returns to kicking his feet. He reaches out with his toe and pokes Ushijima on the knee. “Wonder what he’s going to do now.”

“Now he can rest knowing that Iwaizumi is safe,” Ushijima states.

Tendou snorts. “Nah. I bet he’s going to go after him anyway.”

Ushijima’s frown deepens. “Why is that?”

Tendou remembers how Oikawa was back at training camp, eyes always blazing with hyperfocused passion. He endeared himself to everyone by acting the part of a hopeful but humble candidate, but Tendou saw how jealousy tapped his shoulder every time someone else was praised. “He struck me as the overzealous type,” Tendou says. “Also gay as fuck.”

“You talked to him about his sexuality?”

“Nah, but I could tell.”

“You shouldn't make assumptions like that.”

Tendou sits up, scooting closer to Ushijima. He places his hands on either side of Ushijima’s face, so that their noses are inches apart. “Wakatoshi. Look me in the eye. I know my kind when I see them. And Oikawa Tooru is gay as fuck.”

Ushijima cracks a smile. “I believe you. You’ve never been wrong before.”

Satisfied, Tendou pats Ushijima’s cheeks and flops back onto the bed.

Still, knowing Oikawa ditched that superior attitude to save his boyfriend was something even  Tendou didn’t see coming. “So, has he turned coat?” He pokes Ushijima with his foot again. “It’s one thing to save your boyfriend. Doesn’t mean he’s a sympathizer though.”

Tendou completely believed Oikawa’s passion could override his cognitive dissonance. The question was, would he let it?

Ushijima just watches as Tendou nudges his leg. “I believe he has. Though I am not sure if he has realized it yet himself.”

Tendou snorts. “Yeah, and who’s surprised? He paraded around like a genius, but we all knew it was an act. The only one he fooled was himself.”

“What do you think?” Ushijima asks. “What will become of him?”

“Hmmmm.” Tendou considers what he knows about Oikawa. It’s not much. But his intuition tells him whatever happens, it’s going to be big. “I guess we’ll have to wait and see. Whatever happens, though, it’s not going to be pretty.”

Tendou uses his toe to push Shonen Jump against Ushijma’s leg.

“Until then, what did you think of Gintama this week?”

 

 

**xxxvi. Oikawa Tooru**

_(Oct. 11)_

 

Oikawa is sick of being stuck in this fucking closet.

How could they keep him in here for _five whole days?_ This is child abuse. This is illegal. Well, the whole thing was illegal, and if what Oikawa was trying to do wasn’t illegal as well, he would definitely report them to the authorities once he got out of this mess. Sure, they uncuffed him, gave him food and water, but why? Why were they keeping him? What was he worth to them? Were they still convinced he was working for the Juvies?

And why couldn't they give him anything to do? Sitting here in this small space was boring as hell. There was only him and his thoughts and a Monopoly set missing all the game pieces to keep him occupied.

Currently, the board is set up in front of him. He’s playing as four different people, using a house or hotel for each. The game is tense. Now that he’s so far into the game, and houses and hotels are starting to dot the board, it’s becoming confusing.

Oikawa scrutinizes a red hotel piece on Park Place. _Are you hotel number 2? Or 4? Or are you just a regular hotel?_

Sighing, Oikawa leans against the wall, giving himself a break from the game.

With Monopoly on hold, there are only his thoughts. The past few weeks have given him all the time in the world to think, and he’s tired of his own thoughts. He wants to _move_ , he wants _action_. He wants to find Iwaizumi.

The longest he had ever been apart from Iwaizumi before was over the summer, during the two weeks of the training camp. Before that, when his family went on a vacation to Hawaii for a week. It had been twenty two days since Iwaizumi was dragged out of his house. Twenty two days since Oikawa last kissed him.

Their friends always joked about how Oikawa wouldn’t be able to take care of himself without Iwaizumi to do it for him. But it’s not that Oikawa can’t survive without Iwaizumi, it’s that he doesn’t _want_ to. Losing Iwaizumi felt like losing a limb - and Oikawa was surprised and terrified to find how quickly he adjusted to living without it. He’s afraid of what will happen if he and Iwaizumi are apart for too long. Will he forget how to love Iwaizumi? Will Iwaizumi forget how to love him?

The door to the closet opens, pulling him out of those dangerous thoughts. In walks Suga, jerky steps and straight face. Oikawa hadn’t seen him since the first day; Daichi was always the one to bring him food.

Suga isn’t bringing food this time. He sits down across from him, legs criss-crossed, in front of the board. He looks a little more put together than he had the first time he talked to Oikawa. But Oikawa doesn’t drop his guard just yet.

Oikawa waits for Suga to say something, but he doesn’t. He just stares at Oikawa, making his skin prickle.

Eventually, Oikawa can’t stand the silence any longer. “Did you just come to watch? Or did you want to join my game?”

Suga snaps up, as if he’d been lost in thought. He looks down at the Monopoly board and pushes it roughly to the side. Oikawa winces as the houses topple over and lose their place. _How dare he._ Oikawa holds his tongue before he says something he regrets.

Suga clears his throat and says, “We’re still trying to figure out what to do with you. Daichi wants to let you go, but I’m not so sure.”

So that was why he was here. That made Oikawa’s role simple: convince Suga he was worth saving. The objective was simple, but getting there wouldn’t be. He could play the game like Suga probably wanted. Or he could flip the board and make his own rules.

“Is it true? What Kageyama told us?” Suga asks. “He said you were the one that caught him and turned him over to the authorities.”

Suga takes the first roll, and hits hard.

“...’s not like I’m proud of it.”

Oikawa doesn’t know why he says that. Maybe he wanted to say something else for a change, rather than keep repeating the same excuses. Maybe he was tired of lying. It doesn’t matter. The words are out of his mouth now, there’s no taking it back. He’s made his move - now he has to wait to see how Suga reacts.  

Suga’s brows raise in surprise. “I didn’t say you were,” he says.

Oikawa scoffs. “Maybe not, but you thought it. That’s what To - Kageyama thinks, right? Well, I’m not proud. I _should_ be. But I’m not. That’s why I quit Juvey camp - I wasn’t proud when I should have been.”

Saying it aloud lifts a weight off his chest. It’s a weight he didn’t know was there until it was gone. He knows his words must sound dirty to Suga’s ears, and he feels sick saying them, but at least it’s the truth.

This is the game Suga wanted to play, right? If he wants the truth, Oikawa will give it to him. He’ll tell him every goddamn detail, he’ll put him in his shoes, he’ll _force_ him to understand.

“That doesn’t change the fact that you did it,” Suga counters.

His composure topples over like the houses on the board, rattled by Suga’s pushing. Angry heat rises in his face, discontent boils in his stomach. “You think I don’t know that?” Oikawa snaps. “You think I don’t know the consequences of what I did? You don’t think I think about it every fucking day?”

Suga just stares at him, expressionless. Oikawa looks away, trying to reign his emotions back in.

“I threw up right after it happened, you know.”

Suga scowls. “I didn’t need to know that.”

 _Yes you did._ He had to make Suga understand how he felt at that time. That was the only way to win the game.

But Suga wasn’t budging. Maybe it was time to approach this from a different angle. A more personal one.

“The Tobio I knew was just the same as me, but you don’t question his motives,” Oikawa says.

Suga frowns. “That’s because we found him in a harvest camp, not creeping around our hide-out.”

“You didn’t _know_ him back then,” Oikawa emphasizes. He remembers back to the summer. To the early morning shooting practices and the teachers’ praise and the mess-hall meals. “He was the teacher’s favorite. Everyone admired him. But he didn’t even have time for friends. Always looking ahead, never behind, at those who helped him nurture his supposed ‘genius.’”

Suga widens his eyes in understanding. He looks at Oikawa in a new light. _Yes!_

“And so you shot him. Because you were jealous.”

The words are a knife cuts cleanly through his gut, exposing his ugly insides to the light. Oikawa is powerless to stop the shame from coloring his face red, powerless to stop the knife from skinning him raw. _What a dirty move, Suga-chan._ That was _not_ what Oikawa wanted him to get out of that.

The ugliness spills out of him and Oikawa gathers it up with shaking hands and stuffs it back inside his belly. He can’t let these feelings overwhelm him, not if he wants to win the game.

Oikawa sucks in his stomach and leaps to his feet. “Look, I know I’m not in the same position as Kageyama, but I’ve changed, too!” he shouts at Suga’s face. “I don’t - I don’t think unwinding is the best choice. I know the system makes mistakes. I’ve tried to fix things - I broke into a Juvey system, into the Unwind Database. I kept an Anti-unwind secret. I even rescued a pair of AWOLs from getting taken by a Juvey!”

Suga processes this information slowly. He leans back on his hands casually like Oikawa hadn’t just screamed at him. “How can I trust you’re telling the truth?” he asks.

Déjà vu. He’s taken back to his conversation with Ushijima. Had that only been a few days ago?

_“Why should I trust you? You’re the one turned in that boy.”_

“You can’t. But it doesn’t matter, because I _have_ changed, whether you believe me or not,” Oikawa asserts. “I don’t want to believe unwinding is bad, but I...was lied to. We were all lied to.”

Suga crosses his arms. “Some of us knew better than to believe those lies.”

“Well we can’t all be goddamn angels like you!” Oikawa shouts.

Suga flinches. It’s the first show of emotion Oikawa has seen from him, and he feels victorious to have pulled it out of him. _So he’s human after all._

“But you’re not an angel, are you?” Oikawa continues. Suga paraded around like he was in charge, like nothing affected him. He acted righteous, like he drew the line between ‘good’ and ‘bad’ himself. “Don’t tell me you never messed up before.”

Suga is silent. _Still my move, then._

“Look,” Oikawa says with a sigh. He sits back down, stepping off his platform and back down on Suga’s level. “I know you don’t give a shit about me, but you care about the cause or whatever. We’re on the same side whether you like it or not. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, right? It’d be stupid not to help each other out.”

Suga looks down at him, finally making eye contact again. “And just how do you plan on helping? What’s in it for us?”

Time for the finishing move. Of course Oikawa had been prepared for this question. He didn’t expect any favors from the guy whose introduction was to slap him. But damn, had it been hard to come up with an answer.

“I had a backpack with me,” Oikawa says. “I don’t know where it is now, but I assume you’ve taken it. There’s a Junior Juvey uniform in there, and an ID card to go with it. You can use it with your missions or whatever you call what you do.”

That uniform weighed him down, too, as much as the secrets he kept tucked in his gut. It couldn’t have been more than a couple ounces, but it was the heaviest thing he carried on his shoulders.

“...I don’t need it any more.”

Suga gives a satisfied smile. Oikawa knows he’s proposed a shitty deal, Karasuno would be getting the short end of the stick, so he wonders if it’s what else he could have said to make Suga react like that.

The important thing is that smile means he’s won the game.

Suga stands up and opens the door. Before he walks out, he turns around and says - “We would have taken that anyway, you know.”

\- and closes the door behind him.

_That little shit._

Oikawa sits on the floor for a moment, motionless, counting his losses and wins. Eventually, he reaches for the Monopoly board, and sets up a new game.

_Soon, Iwa-chan, soon. I won’t keep you waiting any longer._

 

 

**xxxvii. Kageyama Tobio**

_(Oct. 11)_

 

Feet dangling over the edge of the roof, Kageyama watches the sun rise higher into the sky. He likes having a bird’s eye view. It makes him feel in control, even when it’s spiraling out of his grip. Like right now.  

From up here, he can see the slope of the mountain, greenery curving down on a shallow incline until it hits the edge of the town below. The town looks like the layout of a game, a neat, complete view of a territory, tiny details blurred from the wide perspective. To his back is Mt. Taihaku. He always faces away from the mountain when he came up here to think. He’s seen Suga stare in the opposite direction for hours, sizing up the mountain under his thousand-yard stare. Kageyama doesn’t understand - he doesn’t want to acknowledge that place at all if he doesn’t have to.

A couple birds fly up from the trees. He watches as they fly higher, squinting his eyes in the brightness.

Most of the others avoid coming up here – they think it’s too dangerous. Kageyama finds that funny, considering what they do. At least that means he has the roof to himself.

“Oh! There you are!”

Usually.

Hinata bounds up beside him and sits next to him on the edge of the roof so their legs are almost touching. He’s too close. Kageyama scoots away. Hinata scoots closer. Kageyama glares at the sliver of white concrete between them, and then at Hinata. But he doesn’t move away.

“What do you want.”

“I was looking for you,” Hinata says. He kicks his legs against the edge of the roof, his heels thunking against the concrete. “What’re you doing up here?”

Kageyama frowns. “Thinking.”

“Pft. That’s a funny joke, Bakageyama.”

Today he can’t summon up the energy to banter back, so Kageyama lets the comment slide.

Only that leads to more prodding. Literally. Hinata pokes his arm, trying to get him to talk.

“Hey, Kageyama.”

_Poke._

“Kageyama.”

_Poke._

“Tobiooooo.”

“What?!!” Kageyama yells, slapping Hinata’s hand away.

Unfazed, Hinata stares at Kageyama with those curious brown eyes. He leans in close, inches from Kageyama’s face. “Are you okay?” he asks.

Oikawa’s sneering face flashes in his mind’s eye.

_A man, half hidden by the trees, opens his eyes in shock when he meets Kageyama’s stare._

_“Tobio-chan?!”_

Kageyama knew that face. That was the face that smiled at him encouragingly while he taught him how to shoot better. That was the face that looked at him with pity in his eyes and shot him down anyway, like he was poor, wild animal that had to be put down.

That was the face that appeared out of nowhere, without warning, in the middle of his new life, and ruined everything.

Kageyama hates him.

“I’m…”

The wave of memories that had come rushing back to him flooded his brain, crashing against the walls of his mind in unrelenting surges. He thought he tucked those memories away long ago, but Oikawa’s presence fished them out from the deep crevices of his thoughts and forced them to resurface.

Kageyama had plunged his memories of camp and life before now deep into his subconscious after he told Karasuno about his past. He hid it from them at first, thinking they would throw him out if they found out who he used to be, but when Kageyama’s uncanny knowledge about Juvey rituals and weapons raised eyebrows, he knew he had to put their suspicions to rest. Luckily, Karasuno was a much more accepting family than the Junior Juvies ever were, and they told him his past was behind him – he was a different person now.

But sometimes he didn’t feel like that was true. Seeing Oikawa again made him question how true that was.

Kageyama hates him.

Because what Oikawa was – that could have been Kageyama.

A hand waves in front of his eyes. “Oi, Bakageyama, I asked if you were all right.”

Kageyama bats the hand away. “I don’t know, okay?!” he snaps.

Kageyama doesn’t know how he’s supposed to feel. He’s never been very in tune with his emotions. Should he feel angry? Scared? Should he be able to laugh it off? He knows he’s feeling something, something that constricts his chest and turns his thoughts into static, but he doesn’t know what that is. He doesn’t know if he _wants_ to know what that is.

“Oh,” Hinata says. “That’s okay. If you don’t know.”

Kageyama watches Hinata’s feet kick back and forth. Up, down, up down. He tries to take comfort in Hinata’s words, but if he can’t tell what he’s feeling, how’s he going to address this mess? Oikawa is sitting in some closet beneath their feet right now. Over the past few days, Suga and Daichi have pressured Kageyama with questions about what he thinks they should do with Oikawa.

_Hell if I know._

Kageyama still can’t even tell if Oikawa’s telling the truth. Did he really change? Kageyama had flipped sides out of a necessity to survive. But Oikawa didn’t have the same motive he did. He recalls what Oikawa said about wanting to find his boyfriend. It was one thing to reverse your values for someone else, but it was another if your own life was at stake.

Would Kageyama have ever sacrificed his life – dropping everything, like Oikawa claimed he did – for someone he loved?

He looks to Hinata. “Do you think he’s telling the truth?” he asks. “Do you think he could have switched sides? For love?”

All of Karasuno knew that Kageyama had recognized Oikawa from Juvey Camp. But only Suga, Daichi, and Hinata knew that Oikawa was the one who shot him. Suga and Daichi by necessity, and Hinata by circumstance. Kageyama had ended up telling Hinata what Oikawa said when he talked to him with Suga and Daichi too, but only to shut him up. He’s kind of glad Hinata knows, anyway.

Hinata considers this for a moment, finger on his chin. “I think so. It’s like Daichi and Suga! Daichi gave up his life back home to help Suga start Karasuno.”

Kageyama thinks back to how Oikawa sounded when he talked about his boyfriend. Kageyama couldn’t really comprehend what he had been saying, but Suga had looked convinced.

“Even if he is telling the truth, he seems like a jerk,” Hinata offers.

Kageyama snorts. “Yeah. He is.”

“Are all Junior Juvies like that?” Hinata asks.

Kageyama shrugs.

The sun rises higher in the sky, rays of heat cutting through the blasts autumn breeze. Hinata stops kicking his legs.

“Why’d you do it in the first place?” Hinata asks. “Why’d you want to become a Juvey cop?”

Kageyama joined the Junior Juvies because he was expected to join the Junior Juvies. His mother wanted him to do it, so he had. He was told he would be good at it. He was told it was the right thing to do. He was told not to worry about it - unwinding was a part of everyday life, and the Juvies were just the janitors cleaning up the extra mess. Kageyama didn’t really care about being a janitor. He was fascinated by the skills a Juvey had; he was fascinated by the hunt.

“I don’t know.”

“Oh. You really don’t know a lot, do you?”

“Shut up! Like you’re any better.”

Hinata breaks into giggles. Kageyama stares at Hinata, at his bright, carefree smile, at the way he looks at Kageyama like he’s not scared of him at all. Ever since he joined Karasuno, Hinata’s passion never faltered. Every mission was met with a determined smile and maximum effort. Hinata held resentment towards the institution but he never let that hate overwhelm him. He shouldn’t be able to be this optimistic all the time. He shouldn’t be this trusting. He shouldn’t be able to ignore Kageyama’s past.

 

Before he went AWOL, Kageyama been just like all of the other Junior Juvey candidates: obedient, resentful, superior. It was only when Kageyama found out his aunt signed the unwind order that that began to change. That day had changed _everything_.

He remembers being called into the Head Juvey’s office that morning. Before his seat grew warm, a triad of adults were telling him things he couldn’t comprehend.

_“I’m sorry to tell you this Kageyama-kun, but your mother has passed away.”_

_“So...I’m an orphan now?”_

_“Not exactly. Legal custody of you has been transferred to your aunt. However, there are some complications...”_

Kageyama barely had time to process his feelings about his mother’s untimely death before he was being told that his aunt had already signed an unwind order.

Though Kageyama was never exactly sociable, he had never felt more alienated than in that moment when he was shown the triplicate form, signed and processed. The words the Head Juvey had stressed the very first day of camp came back to crush him.

_AWOLs are not one of us._

With a single signature, the hunter became the hunted.

And Kageyama’s world turned upside-down.

“How can you just…how can you do that?" Kageyama mumbles.

Hinata cocks his head. “Do what?”

“You know, just…joke around with me, act friendly and stuff.”

Hinata squints his eyes in confusion. “Because...we’re friends?”

“But why?” Kageyama bursts. He buries his face in his knees, afraid to face Hinata head on. “How can you ignore that I – that I did that stuff, too. I used to be like _him_.”

“What do you mean?”

Can Kageyama even blame Oikawa? Wouldn’t he have done the same if their roles were reversed? Kageyama likes to think he would have known better when it came down to it, but there’s no way he could know that was true.

“I was in Junior Juvey training too!” Kageyama shouts. “I thought the same way he did! I only…I only changed my mind because I had too…”

Hinata grows silent.

“I’m not – he’s…I don’t want to be like that. I don’t want to make people feel like I felt…”

Hinata shoves his finger into his chest, scowl on his face. “You’re not like that,” he insists. “If you were, you wouldn’t be here now. You wouldn’t have joined Karasuno. You wouldn’t have gone with them when they tried to break you out – you’d be unwound.”

The two weeks he’d spent at harvest camp had given him enough time for resentment to replace respect. But if he hadn’t been through that experience...  

“Besides, he’s in there, alone, and you have us!”

Kageyama looks up. Hinata’s smile is blinding.

He feels himself blushing. “Yeah...I know…”

“Good. I’ll - um, _we’ll_ always be there for you, Kageyama!” Hinata says. “Even if you burn yourself out from thinking too hard.”

Hinata’s words make him think about Oikawa in a different perspective.

Hinata was right. This time, Oikawa was the one who was alone, and he was the one with people to back him up. Unlike the candidates at the camp that had turned their back on him to moment he was labeled “unwind,” the people of Karasuno trusted him and cared for him. They’d proven that many times over.

Back then, Kageyama was the one who’d been alone. Now, Oikawa was alone, and he was trying to find his boyfriend so he didn’t have to be.

He finds names for the things he’s feeling. Anger. Frustration. Gratitude. Shame. Uncertainty. Pity.

Kageyama stands up and heads for the stairs.

“Wait! Where are you going?”

“I need to talk to Suga.”

 

 

**xxxviii. Bokuto Koutarou**

_(Oct. 11)_

 

“Ready?”

Bokuto curls his fingers tight around Iwaizumi’s hand, planting his other hand firmly on the table. He takes a deep breath in, and breathes out. He stares Iwaizumi down from across the table. “Ready,” Bokuto says.

“Three...two...one - !”

Iwaizumi slams his hand down against table before Bokuto can move a muscle.   

“Wait wait wait!” Bokuto yells, dragging his hand out from under Iwaizumi’s. “I wasn’t ready! I thought you were going to say go!”

“Huh?”

“You went on one! It’s suppose to be three, two, one, _then_ go!”

Iwaizumi stares at him with his eyes narrowed, as if sizing up Bokuto’s claim. Bokuto sticks his lower lip out in a pout, pleading with him.

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. “Fine, I’ve never done it that way, but fine, whatever.” Iwaizumi plants his elbow on the table and holds his hand out. “We can go again.”

“This time, on go,” Bokuto demands.

“You want to count down?” Iwaizumi offers.

“Okay!” Heavy metal music starts playing from the radio, providing the perfect atmosphere to pump him up. Feeling invigorated, Bokuto takes Iwaizumi’s hand again. “I’m ready.”

“You sure about that? You weren’t last time.”

“Iwaizumi! Mean~!”

Iwaizumi winces. Maybe Bokuto was being too harsh, he wasn’t actually that offended, after all. He takes it back: “I’m just kidding, it wasn’t mean. Well, not _that_ mean. I’m not mad, don’t worry.”

“It’s...it’s fine,” Iwaizumi says. He clears his throat and shakes his head, and adjusts his grip around Bokuto’s hand. “Are we doing this or not?”

“Okay, okay...Three, two, one...go!”

Two immovable walls battle it out. Bokuto’s muscles strain as he struggles to keep his hand upright. Iwaizumi’s strength his unstoppable, but Bokuto is determined to hold his own. He grips the table so tightly with his other hand his knuckles turn white. Someone shreds a guitar in the background. With a surge of strength Bokuto begins to tilt Iwaizumi’s arm down.

“Shit!” Iwaizumi grumbles. Iwaizumi’s face turns red; he must be struggling, too.

The point where their hands meet shakes, becoming slippery with sweat. Bokuto cries out in time with the singer as he gets a little further, a little further -

 _Click._ And silence.

Why did the music stop? He turns to the radio -

Iwaizumi slams his hand down.

“Ah!” Bokuto cries out as his knuckles and hit the table and his shame hits the floor. “Dammit!”

Iwaizumi pumps his fist in victory. “Yes!”

Bokuto whips around. Akaashi is standing near the radio, hand still on the ‘off’ button.

“Akaashi! Why’d you turn it off?” Bokuto whines.

“I don’t like this band,” Akaashi says stiffly.

“What? You don’t like Hebimeta?” Iwaizumi crosses his arms and scoffs. “You must have awful taste.”

“Nuh uh!” Bokuto immediately protests. “Akaashi’s a musician - he has great taste!”

Iwaizumi turns to Akaashi. Iwaizumi eyes him suspiciously. “Really? What do you play?”

Akaashi narrows his eyes, taking a moment to answer. “....cello.”

Bokuto nearly rolls his eyes at Akaashi’s humbleness. That’s okay - Bokuto can be boastful for him. “And bass! And bass guitar! That’s amazing, right?” he adds. “I wish I could play an instrument. I tried to play violin when I was younger, but I ended up breaking the neck off after three weeks. I tried drums next and it was really fun and stuff, I got lessons and everything, but I just couldn’t sit down for that long. My lessons would last an hour and a half - and my teacher never even let me up to go to the bathroom! One time I even peed my pants. He wasn’t very happy about that. Actually I stopped getting lessons from him after that. I feel kind of bad, making my parents pay for all those lessons and nothing even came of it…”

He feels a hand on his shoulder. “Music’s not for everyone,” Akaashi says.

“Yeah, but still...maybe I could have been worth more that way.”

It’s funny how that worked. Even now, he’s still trying to be worthy of his parents. He owes them nothing, but he still feels guilty that he can’t be of more use to them, even if he were to be unwound. Bokuto was still mad at them, of course. He can’t forgive them for what they did to him, not yet. Maybe one day he’ll come to terms with it, like Hyakuzawa did, but he thinks it’ll take some time.

_His physique will make us a decent profit. Even if his brain won’t._

Those words come back to bite him in the butt at the worst moments. Bokuto wants to beat them out of his head but every time he shuts them out they spring right up again, like an annoying zombie that just won’t die. Those words remind him of why he’s here to begin with. Remind him why he wasn’t good enough for his parents.

Is it even worth running away from unwinding if he’s not worth anything whole?

Akaashi runs his hand down his arm. “Bokuto-san - ”

“Hey,” Iwaizumi interrupts. “Don’t think that way. You can’t put a price tag on your worth. That’s how _they_ want you to think, so that you’ll undervalue yourself.”

He stands up and places a hand on Bokuto’s shoulder. His eyes have a sort of far away look to them as he says, “That’s why you need to stay whole. You’re valuable. Even if you think you aren’t valuable right now, you can always change. You can always get better. You can always choose to do better, even if you messed up before.”

Bokuto feels a lighter better, hearing that. If he gets through this in one piece, he vows to make something of himself. Maybe he can try doing music again. Or he could help with the unwinding cause! The people who ran the safe-houses did so much to keep them alive, and he’s really grateful to them. Maybe Bokuto could open his own safe-house -

“You really think that’s true?”

They turn to the sound of Akaashi’s voice. He’s been quiet for a long time, listening to them talk. His hand had long dropped to his side.

“Of course,” Iwaizumi declares.

Akaashi’s gaze falters. Looking at his feet, he quietly says, “Even...even if people have made mistakes in the past…”

Bokuto’s burning curiosity to know more about Akaashi grows hotter. What mistakes has be made? Did he think those mistakes made him deserve to be unwound? What kind of mistakes did he make to make him think that? Bokuto has to bite his tongue to keep himself from blurting out questions he’s been dying to know the answer to.

“Redemption is always possible,” Iwaizumi asserts. “That’s why you need to keep living - you can’t make up for mistakes if you’re in a bunch of pieces.”

Bokuto swears Akaashi’s eyes twinkle. He looks so surprised and confused and content that Bokuto wants to spring up and hug and kiss him -  

_Oh wow, that’s a thought I’m currently having._

Bokuto grips the table with both hands to ground himself and to keep himself from doing anything weird. He’s so preoccupied with trying to sit still that he almost misses what Iwaizumi says next.

“My boyfriend back home...he was pro-unwinding.”

Bokuto’s attention is directed back at Iwaizumi. “What - really?”

“Yeah,” he says, scratching the back of his neck, “and so was I. Not as into it as him, though. He was going to be a Juvey cop, actually…”

He and Akaashi look at each other. But Akaashi looks just as confused as him, unsure of what to do with this information. He gives a little shrug, and Akaashi grimaces in response.

Luckily Iwaizumi continues. “I have to believe that people can change.” His hands ball into fists, and he gets that distant look in his eyes again. “I changed. So he can too...and then we’ll be together again.”

Bokuto doesn’t know how to choose the right words to comfort him, so he leaps up and pulls Iwaizumi into a big hug.

“Ooof!” At first Iwaizumi tenses up, but then he relaxes and wraps his arms arms back around Bokuto, and pats his back. “Sorry, um, I don’t understand...wha - ”

“I don’t really know what to say but that sounds sad so I’m giving you a hug!”

For a moment, Iwaizumi’s silent, and Bokuto worries that this was the wrong thing to do, he probably should have asked before jumping Iwaizumi; no, he definitely should have done that -  but then Bokuto feels the rumble of his chest as he laughs.

“Thanks Bo. I appreciate it. It’s been awhile since I hugged anyone…”

Bokuto gives him one last squeeze before letting go. “Well if you ever need a hug you can always come to me! I love giving hugs.”

Iwaizumi smiles, but Bokuto thinks he’s forcing it. He sounded pretty sincere earlier, so maybe he was misinterpreting it? Bokuto thought Iwaizumi was a pretty simple guy, but every time they talk, he gets a little harder to read.

Iwaizumi shuffles out of the room. “I’m gonna...take a walk,” he says, leaving Akaashi and Bokuto to watch as he meanders away into the woods.  

 

Later in the day, Bokuto sits at the table in the kitchen, tilting his bottle of Ritalin back and forth under his finger.

He's trying to decide if he had taken it this morning or not. But he can’t remember. What had he done that morning? He went for a walk in the forest before Akaashi got up. And then he got breakfast, and then he and Iwaizumi arm wrestled - or wait, did he eat breakfast after that?

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

The bottle clacks against the wooden table as he rocks it back and forth. The pills fall against the side of the container with each tilt.

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

Should he take it now? Maybe he should just wait until tomorrow. But what if he didn’t take it after all, and then he annoyed Akaashi and Iwaizumi? Iwaizumi seemed pretty cool so far, but what if Bokuto did something to annoy him and he didn’t like him anymore?

_Tap. Tap. Ta -_

“Hey.”

Bokuto turns to the noise, bottle falling against the table as Bokuto lets it go. It rolls across the surface and falls off the end onto the ground.

“Uh, oops - ”

Bokuto reaches down to grab it, but Iwaizumi beats him to it. He grabs the container first and places it in Bokuto’s hand with a small smile. “I saw you swallow a few of those this morning, if you were wondering if you took them today,” Iwaizumi says.

Bokuto’s eyes shoot open. He almost drops the bottle again in surprise. “How did you know?!”

“My boyfriend was on hormone therapy when we were younger,” Iwaizumi explains, sitting down at the table next to Bokuto. “He lost track of when he used them last. I’d catch him staring at his Androgel pump with that same look on his face. I ended up making a calendar for that dumbass so he didn’t have to rely on me to keep track for him.”

“Oh! That’s cool,” Bokuto says. “Wait. You said when you were younger - how much younger? How long were you together - ”

“ _Are.”_ Iwaizumi asserts with a bitter tone. Bokuto recoils slightly, watching as Iwaizumi’s hands form fists. “ _Are_ together. We’re still...we’re still...together. Even if - we’re still together.”

Iwaizumi flinches, and leans back into his chair. He returns to himself, appearing a little less angry. “But, uh...about a year now. We’ve been friends since we kids, though.”

“Oh! I have friends who knew each other when they were kids too! They aren’t together yet, but I think they like each other. I mean, they’ve been together forever, since they were in the same staho. Akaashi’s from the staho, too. From one in Tokyo.”

Iwaizumi leans back. “I hear the Tokyo stahos are rough.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Didn’t you hear of the one they had to shut down? Unwound all of them, I heard.”

Bokuto remembers part of a conversation with Kuroo. “Oh yeah! My friend was saying something about that. Tokyo...Tokyo four? Five? I think it was five. Maybe.”

Iwaizumi nods. “That sounds right.”

Iwaizumi gets that glazed look in his eye again. “That’s fucked up. The fact that adults can just _do_ these things. To fucking _children_. How come they can’t see what monsters they are?! We need to fight back.”

Bokuto nods fervently. “Totally.”

“It’s hard, but we need to,” Iwaizumi continues. Bokuto’s not sure if he heard him. “A couple of guys and I disarmed an entire crate of tranqs. It was a risk, but it worked out in the end. We made a difference.”

“Whoa. That’s awesome!”

“But it’s not enough,” Iwaizumi says, voice shaking. He pounds his fist against the table, shaking the bottle of Ritalin. “We can’t shake the foundation by hiding in the woods like cowards. We need to get back out there and do something.”

Iwaizumi’s starting to sound scary. Bokuto raises a hand and intervenes. “Um. I think, right now, surviving might just be enough. Then they can’t make any money off of your parts. It’s not much but...small things like that matter too, I think.”

Iwaizumi’s brows furrow. “Maybe. But - ”

“I think your boyfriend would like it if you just survived,” Bokuto interjects. Iwaizumi flinches. “I bet he’d be sad if he found out you were unwound because you were reckless.”

Iwaizumi’s lip curls. He opens his mouth to protest, and then slowly closes it. “You might be right, but…”

He pushes his chair out, the seat’s legs squeaking against the floor, stands up, and makes is way out of the kitchen.

“...there are more important things than love.”

 

Iwaizumi goes to sleep early that night. Bokuto thinks that’s probably for the best.

Bokuto heads outside and sits on the _engawa_ , staring up at the sky, at the stars that twinkled brighter than Bokuto could ever have imagined.

The other night, when Iwaizumi first led them out here, Bokuto had never felt happier. Seeing all the green in the daylight was amazing, but seeing the sky at night was something else entirely. Akaashi let him carry him around, and they laid next to each other under the night sky. He got to see the stars reflected off of Akaashi’s eyes -

Oh. That got him thinking of Akaashi. Bokuto sometimes found it hard to figure out his own feelings, but he wasn’t so stupid that he couldn’t figure this one out. He knew he was developing feelings for Akaashi. Ever since that kiss, Bokuto couldn’t stop thinking about Akaashi’s lips, Akaashi’s hands, Akaashi’s smile. His crush is growing deeper. He can feel himself falling down the rabbit hole. That night Iwaizumi showed them the stars, carrying Akaashi around, laying next to each other in the grass, carrying a sleeping Akaashi back to the house - Bokuto knows he’s smitten. He wanted to avoid this, but he thinks he’s too late.

This is bad. They’re supposed to be _fake_ dating. Real feelings weren’t supposed to come into the mix! They only agreed to pretend to be together so that they would have stability amid change; companionship.

But now Bokuto’s fucking it up. He’s wants _more_ than that. Now that he’s come to know Akaashi better, he’s beginning to understand the boy behind the pretty face. Whatever secrets he may be hiding, Bokuto knows he’ll still be the same person. And Bokuto really, really likes that person.

He hates pretending to be in this relationship because he isn’t pretending at all. And he feels guilty for that. He feels like somehow, he’s cheating Akaashi, getting more out of this than Akaashi bargained for.

It didn’t help that Akaashi was getting pretty handsy. The time after they kissed, that morning after he built the castle, playing in the moonlight the other night. Everything he wanted was right there for him to take, but in the end, none of it meant anything.

Why didn’t they just pretend to be brothers? That would have made everything so much easier (or more awkward, depending on how you looked at it).

 

_“You think you know me now_

_That I’m under your microscope”_

 

Bokuto sits straight up at the sound of singing. He stands up as if in a trance and makes his way around the _engawa_ , to the front of the house. Under the sakura tree sits Akaashi, picking petals off a fallen branch, singing to himself.

 

_“But you don’t know anything at all_

_Not my flaws, my strengths, my  - ”_

 

“Aghaashi! I didn’t know you could sing too!” Bokuto blurts.

Akaashi jumps, dropping the branch. A flash of embarrassment crosses his face. “You - you heard that?”

Bokuto backtracks. “Sorry, was I not supposed to? I’m sorry! I heard your voice and it was really pretty and, um, I couldn’t help myself? I can go away if you want…”

Akaashi looks from the branch, to Bokuto, to the branch again, and sighs. “No, Bokuto-san, it’s fine.”

Bokuto takes that as an invitation to sit down next to Akaashi. He walks over to the sakura tree and plops down beside him, leaning against the trunk and sitting so their legs are touching. He hopes Akaashi won’t mind.

To his delight, Akaashi doesn’t back away from the touch - he doesn’t even flinch.

Akaashi seemed much more comfortable now than when they first started dating. Fake dating. Bokuto wonders if it’s because he’s grown used to the role, or because of something else.

No - he can’t let himself hope like that. He has to be respectful of Akaashi’s feelings.

“...it was a really pretty song,” Bokuto says.

“Yeah,” Akaashi says.

“Will you sing it again?” Bokuto asks. Akaashi looks surprised at the request at first, and then embarrassed. “You don’t have to! But...I like the sound of your voice…”

Akaashi bites his lip, twiddling his fingers together like Bokuto does when he’s thinking too hard. And then, he stops.

“...okay.”

Bokuto forces himself not to jump up in victory. He scooches back to give Akaashi a little space, then eagerly waits for him to start.

He takes a deep breath, and sings.

 

_“You think you know me now_

_That I’m under your microscope_

_But you don’t know anything at all_

_Not my flaws, my strengths, my hopes._

 

_“You threw me in a labeled box_

_And tossed me out the door_

_Cause you couldn’t see any deeper_

_Than what you were looking for._

 

_“I’m not who you think I am_

_I’m not a misfit_

_I’m not a perfect data point_

_on your line of best fit.”_

 

“Wow. That was...amazing.”

“It wasn’t that good, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says. “I haven’t practiced singing in a while so my voice was - ”

Bokuto presses his finger to Akaashi’s lips, just like Akaashi had done right before he kissed him. Just like Bokuto had, he falls silent.

“It was perfect,” Bokuto asserts.

He catches those emerald green eyes and for a brief moment, Bokuto wonders if Akaashi wants to kiss him as much as Bokuto wants to kiss Akaashi. But he has no excuse to kiss him, not when no one’s watching.

He quickly pulls his hand away and cradles it against his chest, and the tension fades.

He leans back against the tree and tries to clear his head.

“Hey Akaashi. Remember this morning when you turned off the radio when that one band came on? Why don’t you like them?”

Akaashi’s face falls. “...their name is stupid. Hebimeta. They’re not even a real heavy metal group - they’re hefty metal.”

Bokuto cocks his head. “Hefty metal?”

“Heavy metal, but lighter. Not soft though. Just - hefty.”

Akaashi explains how the hefty metal movement arose out when the heavy metal bands of the 2020’s tried to go mainstream. Bokuto tries to listen, he really does, but Akaashi uses a lot of technical terms that are hard to follow, and really, how can he concentrate when Akaashi’s eyes light up like that? Bokuto loves how much he loves music. He only wishes he had more of a background to understand.

Eventually, Akaashi trails off, and leans his head on Bokuto’s shoulder. Bokuto forces himself not to squirm when a thrill zings through him.

Leaning up against each other like this reminds him of the last time they were in a van together, being transported here. He remembers what Akaashi said today, about redeeming yourself from mistakes.  When he asked about Akaashi’s past, how reluctant he’d been to talk about it, how he thought Bokuto would hate him if he found out.

_You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep._

What had he meant when he said that?

“Akaashi? When are you gonna tell me about yourself?” Bokuto asks.

Akaashi sighs. He nuzzles his head a little closer against Bokuto’s neck. When he gives his answer, there’s a hint of resignation in his voice that hadn’t been there before. “Soon, Bokuto-san. Soon.”

 

 

**xxxix. Doctor’s Assistant**

_[date redacted]_

 

“Nurse Takeda. What do you suppose you’re doing?”

The man jumps, scurrying away from the computer like a child caught trying to steal sweets.

He leans against the back of the desk and gives an innocent smile. “Oh - ah - I thought everyone was done for the night.”

The Doctor’s assistant raises an eyebrow. “Evidently.”

She places her coffee cup down next to the computer, quickly scanning the screen. Her files are opened: her notes on the rewind’s progress, the video feed from today, and a live feed in the corner.

“What were you looking at?” she inquires.  

Takeda clears his throat. “Ah, I was curious to see the rewind’s progress.”

“I see.” She closes out of her notes and the day’s feed. “Natural for a nurse to care for his patient. But you are aware these files are classified, aren’t you?”

“The Doctor gave me permission,” Takeda says. “You can check with him, if you want.”

She narrows her eyes, staring him down, but his gaze doesn’t falter. “I see,” she says. _Damn him and his persistence._ Out of all the medics here, she despised him the most. Always eager to please, but freezes up when given a body. How irritating. She doesn’t understand how why he chose this profession when he doesn’t even have the stomach for it.

But he got through the procedures anyway. Quite well, too, she had to admit. Even the Doctor himself admired his precision and speed.

“I don’t mean to keep you here,” she says, taking a seat at her desk and turning her chair away from him. “I’m sure you have more important matters to attend to.”

She would not let him take this opportunity from her. She knew the Doctor favored him - that much was apparent from how much he was involved in the rewind’s procedure - but it was to _her_ he assigned this task. It was her work to manage. Work that _she_ would get credit for, not this numbskull who could barely handle a simple unwinding procedure.

His persistence matched with her ambition - she wonders which will win in the end.

“This is a pretty important matter,” Takeda says. She opens her mouth to contradict him but before she can, he adds, “That’s why the Doctor assigned this task to you, of course.”

She knows the flattery’s just for show, but she drinks it up anyway. She waves her hand, dismissing the compliment. “You’re too generous. We all do a lot of important work around here.”

“No need to be so humble. The rewind is all anyone talks about now.”

She smirks. “That tends to happen when private investors jump on a project that isn’t even finished.”

She glances back at the screen, at the live recording of the rewind. Surprisingly, he’s asleep, and his eyes are closed, so the screen is black, but from the audio comes the crackle of steady breathing. His last few days of excitement must have worn him out. “If all goes as planned, this will change everything.”

“Indeed it will,” Takeda says as he backs up out of the room. “But if it doesn’t, best be careful, miss. There are more parts in play than you could ever imagine. They could easily fall to pieces. And unlike our rewind, we won’t be able to sew them back together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and the plot thickens
> 
> credit for the name hebimeta to my wonderful beta Bananaman! She is rad as fuck and so came up with rad as fuck names like hebimeta 
> 
> fun fact: i currently have 24 chapter planned for this fic so technically we're halfway through. that'll probably change tho so don't hold me to that lol
> 
> next up: tsukki and yam reach their destination, and secrets are reveled ʘ‿ʘ


	13. Beginnings (pt. 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sugawara Koushi has no clue what “fight club” is, what are you talking about? Kuroo Teturuou is proud to announce he gets his own section. Akaashi Keiji has a hair kink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember how i said there would be 24 chapters last chapter? Immediately after i posted that, i added 4 more chapters. And then i decided to split this chapter up, so 5 more chapters. What have i done...

**Sugawara Koushi**

_(Oct. 12)_  

 

Suga still can’t believe Kageyama and Hinata brought a potential spy _directly into their camp._ Suga hasn’t had a headache like this in...actually, he’s never had a headache like this before.

“We need to make the rules more clear next time,” Suga says, rubbing circles around his temples. He sinks into the couch in the “living room,” where he sits in between Daichi and Asahi. Kiyoko sits on the floor across from them, a paper map with the topography of the area around Mt. Taihaku spread out in front of her. “First rule of Karasuno - you don’t talk about Karasuno.”

“What is this, fight club?” Daichi complains.

“More like Fight for Our Lives Club,” Asahi mumbles.

Suga slaps Asahi’s shoulder. “Too real, Asahi. Get that negativity out of my face.”

“Well it’s true…”

An emergency meeting was called to discuss what to do with their hostage. Kageyama wanted to talk to Oikawa - Suga wasn’t sure if they should let him. He showed considerable distress that first meeting. Just thinking about Oikawa gave Suga a headache; he can’t imagine how Kageyama feels about him.

Daichi throws up his arms. “I still can’t believe we have a _hostage_ ,” he says. “We sound like some kind of, I don’t know, some kind of criminal organization!”

“Daichi,” Kiyoko says, “we are a criminal organization.”

Daichi grits his teeth. “Technicalities aside, that doesn’t mean we have to act like one.” He settles back against the couch, head resting on the edge, stretching his arms across the back of the couch. His hand brushes Suga’s shoulder.

Suga stands up. He starts pacing around the room, making a circle around Kiyoko’s map.

“I don’t want to keep him here any more than you guys, but we can’t just let him _go_. He knows where our base is. If he tells the Juvies...it’s all over,” Suga says.

“I thought you said we could trust him,” Asahi says.

He turns around and paces the other way. Suga had told them the conclusion of his interrogation of Oikawa yesterday. But that’s what he felt _yesterday_ , and a night of sleep brought all his doubts back. “I could be wrong,” Suga says.

“You sounded pretty sure yesterday.”

Suga frowns, and paces faster. He circles the map, another contour line on the topographic map.

“Suga. You’re making Asahi nervous.”

Asahi looks up. “What? No - ”

“That’s his problem, not mine,” Suga says.

“Suga. Sit _down_.”

Suga pauses. He glares at Daichi, but Daichi glares right back. _You’re acting weird again,_ the glare says.

Suga sits down.

“Maybe one of us could lead him to the Court?” Asahi suggests. “That way we could - ”

“We can’t spare the manpower,” Suga says. “Not right now...not when we have so few…”

If only the other boys they rescued had joined them. Ennoshita, Kinoshita, and Narita had all turned down the offer to join their rebel group after Karasuno had rescued them. Suga couldn’t blame them - this was a dangerous mission - but Karasuno really could have used the help. He knew it was selfish of him to think that way, to expect them to abandon their lives for this cause, but right now he resents them for it. He resents himself for resenting them.

He doesn’t miss Daichi and Asahi give each other a look. He wants to call them out on it, but he doesn’t want to deal with another argument right now. He clenches his fist and his teeth and holds his anger close to his chest.

“I looked Oikawa up in the Juvey database,” Kiyoko says. Suga tries to clear his head and focus on what they could do about their situation on hand.

As their resident hacker, information was hard to slip by Kiyoko. Her help has been invaluable. “He never completed the Juvey course, so he’s been labeled ‘DESERTER’. That basically means he’s been excommunicated. They won’t listen to him.”

_That means his ID is useless too. Nice one, Oikawa._

“So they won’t listen to him...probably,” Asahi says.

Daichi smacks his shoulder. “Asahi. _Not helping.”_

“Well we can’t know for sure,” Asahi stresses.

“Asahi’s right,” Suga says. “We can’t just let him go off on his own.”

“Suga, we can’t keep him here,” Daichi says.

Suga frowns. He traces the lines of the map, outlining the route around the mountain.

Asahi sighs. “This would be so much easier if he was an AWOL…”

_Lightbulb!_

Suga sits up and grins. “I think I have a solution.”

 

“Are you ready?” Suga asks Kageyama, his hand on the closet handle.

Kageyama hesitates a moment before nodding.

“If you’re sure,” Suga says.

He opens the door. Oikawa lays sprawled across the ground among a scattering of houses and hotels and a rainbow of money. The moment the door opens he leaps up in surprise and straightens himself out.

He sits up, cross-legged, and masks his startled reaction with a shit-eating grin. “Tobio-chan and Suga-chan - my favorite two Karasuno members. I feel so special.”

“Shut it,” Suga says.

Oikawa sneers.

Suga and Kageyama step into the room, while Daichi waits by the door.

Oikawa looks to Kageyama. “Why’d you come here, Tobio-chan?”

Kageyama glares at him. Suga’s not sure if he’s sizing him up or trying to put up a front.

“You’re really not a Junior Juvey?” Kageyama asks.

Oikawa sighs. “How many times do I have to tell you. I’m not, jeez - ”

“Good.”

Oikawa appears surprised by that response, but he keeps silent.

Kageyama looks to Suga nervously.

“Do you want to tell him?” Suga asks.

Kageyama nods. He takes a deep breath, and then looks Oikawa in the eyes and says, “We can get you to the Court.”

“Well I - wait.” Oikawa sits up straighter. If he was a dog Suga swears his ears would have perked up and his tailed would’ve been wagging. “Really?”

“But you’ll have to go through the safe house system,” Kageyama says. “Just like every other AWOL. Maybe then you can see how we feel.”

He looks to Suga for verification, and Suga gives him a slight nod.

Oikawa considers the proposition.

“Who’s to say I won’t run once you leave me there?”

“You really want to walk out of a safe house?” Suga asks, glad to explain the genius of his idea. “No rational AWOL would risk leaving the safe houses. If you try to leave, you risk the others finding out you’re not one of them. And I don’t think they’ll take too kindly to that.”

Oikawa sneers. “Clever.”

Suga grins.

“Alright,” Oikawa says. “As long it’ll get me out of this motherfucking room, we have a deal.”

Kageyama clenches his teeth. “You’re not going to tell on us, right?”

“And let them unwind all of your beautiful faces? Not a chance.” His voice takes on a somber tone. His gaze flickers to Kageyama and the back down at the floor. “I already made that mistake once.”

Oikawa was an annoying bastard, but Suga didn’t mind him so much when he lowered his walls like this.

As for Kageyama, hearing Oikawa's words must do him good. He visibly relaxes, looking less tense than he has in days. Suga bets he's finally come to terms with what happened between him and Oikawa. 

“Suga-chan.”

Suga raises his eyebrow.

“Are you sure this’ll lead me to Iwaizumi?”

This is the kind of desperation Suga is familiar with. It’s what made him change his mind about Oikawa in the first place. He feels a little better about this decision when Oikawa uses that tone.

“As long as he’s still in the safehouse system. All the safe houses end in the Court.”

Oikawa nods.

Suga begins telling Oikawa the plan. “We’ll walk you down into town tonight. There’s a safehouse right at the edge…”

 

Now that Oikawa’s gone, Suga feels like he can finally breathe.

“Weight off my chest…”

Tanaka and Nishinoya had brought Oikawa down into the safe house that evening. According to them, their mission went off without a hitch. Now Oikawa was “AWOL,” and Suga didn’t have to worry about him any longer.

It wasn’t Oikawa himself that caused the stress. Okay, that was a lie - it wasn’t _entirely_ Oikawa. The guy was an asshole, but Suga’s dealt with many assholes in his life.

It was what Oikawa stood for. Or _used to_ stand for, according to him. It was a reminder that the majority of people took Oikawa’s stance, not Karasuno’s. It was a reminder that real events were happening outside of their control, that the world beyond the mountain continued on with its shitty activities like putting a price on a child’s meat and training kids to hunt down other kids. It was the reminder that the Juvies could find them at any moment and take them down.

“Sitting ducks…”

Suga’s not a fool. He knows Karasuno doesn’t have the firepower or the manpower to resist if the Juvies found them and decided to attack. There are only so many patrols Karasuno can send, only so much ground they can cover.

Suga watches the mountain as the sun sets behind it. By now, Suga has every square meter of Mt. Taihaku memorized. Staring at it has no purpose, but it draws his gaze anyway. He’s knows it’s stupid, but it feels like if he stares long enough, he’ll be able to see the harvest camp clearly, and in it, the part of himself he left behind.

The door to his room creaks open. Daichi sits down by his side, holding out a mug for him to take. “Hey,” Daichi says. “How’re you doing?”

It smells like jasmine. Suga takes the tea, and lets the warm from the cup soak through his fingers, nearly burning them. The skin of his fingertips is welding together. The skin of his fingertips is ripping apart. “I’m…” _fine_. Daichi’s not going to buy that. “...tired.”

Daichi laughs quietly. “What else is new.”

“That’s not - it’s just.” He wants Daichi to understand, he really does, but he doesn’t even know what’s happening to himself. “Ever since the accident. I haven’t...I’m not...the same. It’s - leap out of my skin - out of body experience - ”

Suga claps his hand over his mouth. He hates when that happens, when he’s not thinking and he starts speaking in metaphors. “Sorry,” he says.

“Don’t be,” Daichi says. He looks away, rubbing his neck. “I, uh, think it’s kind of cute when you do that…”

Of course Daichi would find some way to put a positive spin on this. It makes him feel a little lighter anyway; Daichi always knew just what to say. “Puppy love…” Suga mutters.

Daichi turns red.

Suga smirks, satisfied he can still embarrass Daichi like he used to. Some things haven’t changed. That’s what Suga was holding onto, that’s what was keeping him sane.

The orange bar of light outlining the mountain begins fading to a deep blue to match the rest of the sky. Suga taps his fingers against the tea. He takes a sip - and burns his tongue. He swallows anyway, and holds his tongue against the roof of his mouth, waiting for the pain to go away.

Daichi clears his throat. “You seem more on edge that usual.”

So Daichi had picked up on that too. He considers blaming the stress on Oikawa - he was certainly a part of it - but he doesn’t want to keep using excuses. Not around Daichi. “It’s like...it’s like - using bandaids on a gash that needs stitches. It was fine at first, it held together, but now the bandaids are finally starting fall apart and so am I…”

“And you’re the gash?”

“I’m the gash.”

If Suga was an open wound, and all the shit going down around him were the infections infesting him, Daichi was the antibiotics that fought them off and kept him from falling apart completely.

Shadows elongate as the sky grows darker, casting shadows across Daichi’s face. His brows are furrowed, deep in concentration. Suga wants to reach out and flatten out the wrinkles with his thumb, or maybe his lips. But he doesn’t.

_That’s enough opening up for the day._

Suga lifts his empty mug, and sets it on the floor beside him. “Thanks for the tea.” _Please leave, I need some space,_ is what Suga’s really trying to say.

Thankfully, Daichi is fluent in Suga-speak.

“No problem.” He picks up Suga’s cup and stands. He blows Suga a kiss. “But hey - I’m here for you. However you need me.”

_Strong as an ox. Cool as a cucumber. Light of my life._

Suga catches the kiss, and holds it near his heart. “Thanks Daichi.”

 

 

**xli. Kuroo Tetsurou**

_(Oct. 16)_

 

“Kuroo.”

A nudge against his side.

Kuroo groans and rolls over, pulling the covers tighter over his face.

“Kuroo.”

A kick to his thigh.

Kuroo throws the cover off, sitting up with a groan. “What?”

He looks to Kenma, who sits beside him in the safe house, half buried under the covers Kuroo threw off. The other AWOLs lay next to each other in the corner, still asleep.

Kenma’s hunched over his device, lips curled in a frown. “My battery’s out,” he says.

“What?”

Kenma shoves the gaming device in his face. Rather, the blank screen.

“The battery died.”

“Jeez, I get it.” Kuroo pushes it away, fighting a yawn. “Wait - I thought that was solar powered?”

“It is,” Kenma says. “And we get tons of sunlight in these safe houses.”

“No need for sass, young man.”

“I’m only a year younger than you.”

“Semantics.”

Kuroo takes Kenma’s device. He runs his finger over the blackened screen, over the divots on the back. “But aren’t those back-up batteries supposed to last like, ten years?” he asks.

“Yes,” Kenma says. “Your point?”

 _You’ve played ten years worth of video games in two. You’ve defied the impossible,_ Kuroo wants to say. But he just shrugs. Kenma knows what he’s thinking anyway.

Kenma always knows what he’s thinking. Kuroo can’t remember a time when he and Kenma weren’t close enough read each other. He wonders how people survive without a best friend to rely on, to trust with their life and have their back fully.

He can’t remember a time before Kenma, and he can’t imagine a time after Kenma. He hopes he never has to.

Kenma huffs and slumps over. His face reads ‘boredom.’

Kuroo scans the room. He spots a couple of paper objects in the corner opposite the other AWOLs. He slips out from underneath Kenma and grabs a few, bringing them back and placing the stack across their thighs. He takes the one on top and starts flipping through it.

“What’re these?” Kenma asks, pinching one of the paper stacks between his fingers and holding it up in front of them.

“It’s a magazine,” Kuroo says. “But like...the paper version.”

Kenma frowns. “They still print those?”

Kuroo shrugs. “Guess so. Maybe some people like to collect them. Like with records.”

“That’s stupid. It’s the same thing. Only more expensive. And it takes up more space.”

Kuroo flaps the magazine back and forth. It makes a wobbly noise that’s kind of funny. He holds it still and flips through it, briefly scanning the pictures.

“No accounting for people’s tastes. But this is kind of cool, being able to hold it,” Kuroo says. “It’s like the books they used to have at the staho.”

He flips to the middle of the magazine. A spread of four people, three guys draped over each other, and a girl standing in front of them, all dressed in gold. Bright red kanji spell out the headline: DRAMA FOR IDOL GROUP FUKURO4?

Kuroo holds the imagine closer to his face. “Hey. Doesn’t that look like - ”

“No.” Kenma snatches the magazine, snapping it shut.

Kuroo crosses his arms and elbows Kenma’s arm. “No need to be so aggressive.”

He picks up another magazine and starts reading about the recent revival of the hefty metal band Hebimeta. There were so many young, up and coming idol groups, it was hard to keep track of them these days. But there’s nothing else to do, so he lets Kenma lean up against him while they read magazines.

Later, one of the rebels comes in with lunch. Kuroo takes the chance to try and save Kenma’s ass from having to read any more magazines.

As he hands them each an onigiri wrapped in plastic, Kuroo asks him, “Hey. Do you have any batteries?” He waves Kenma’s device in the air.

The rebel, who introduced himself as Shirabu yesterday, gives him a look, glaring at him through that asymmetrical fringe. Kuroo kind of wants to ask him how he got it so straight.

“Please?” Kuroo says. “This thing is basically a part of Kenma now. If it stops functioning, it’ll be like severing off a limb for him.”

“Shut up.” Kenma accompanies his words with a kick.

“I can hear you, you know, you don’t have to kick me.”

“I know.”

“Why do I like you?”

Shirabu clears his throat. “Are you guys done?”

Kuroo turns his attention back to the young rebel. “We were just getting started, but a ceasefire is appreciated. So - do you have batteries?”

Shirabu grits his teeth. “I’ll see what I can do,” he finally says.

“Thanks, bro.” He hands Shirabu the device. “It’s solar powered too, so maybe you can just charge it outside for a while.”

Shirabu takes the device with the snap of his wrist. Staring down at it, he asks, “What game were you playing?”

“FHQ: Rise of the Demon King.”

Shirabu bites his lips, holding the device delicately. “I’ve never played that one before,” he says, trying and failing to hide his interest.

It’s odd. Shirabu looks younger than any of the other rebels they’ve encountered so far. He wonders how he got involved in this mess. “Hey, one more thing,” Kuroo calls before Shirabu leaves.

Kuroo notices Shirabu pause before he turns back around, hand on his hip. “What? What else do you want?” he asks, exasperated.

“Why are you all so young?” Kuroo asks.

Shirabu raises his eyebrow. “We’re all the same age as you?”

“That’s my point.”

Shirabu sighs, and says with the robotic quality of a speech long rehearsed: “Shiratorizawa members are a group of young, elite soldiers who serve as double agents working within the Juvey organization. It’s harder for adults to join the Juvies since they don’t have the right background, but since we’re young, we still have a chance. Satisfied?”

“Then why are you here?” Kenma asks. “Shouldn’t you be at a Juvey station or something?”

“I’d be there already if you two weren’t keeping me here,” Shirabu says, refusing to elucidate them any further. And with that final thought, he slams the door behind them.

“These Shiratori-whatever people are weird,” Kuroo says.

“Not as weird as you,” Kenma says.

“Hey. I take offense to that.”

Kenma snorts. “Good.”

Ever since the incident with the tranquilizers, something about his relationship with Kenma has felt off. It’s so subtle that Kuroo took a while to realize it, but something’s definitely up. Kenma still banters with him and talks to him, but his touches are fleeting and he refuses to meet Kuroo’s eye. Kuroo’s afraid he went too far. If only Kenma could understand that Kuroo couldn’t just sit on his ass all day waiting for the Juvies to get them - no, Kuroo thinks Kenma  _does_ understand, but he’s too afraid to act. Because he’s looking out for himself, and he’s looking out for Kuroo.

Is the way Kenma's acting right now another attempt to protect himself? Or to protect Kuroo? This subtle change is eating at him...surely Kenma has to know it’s hurting him. They’re like brothers; their relationship is built on years of mutual trust and affection. Kuroo always wants to be there for him, to be closer to him than anyone else. Kenma must think that this is only making it worse, right?

He looks down at the top of Kenma’s head, where his roots have grown out to the tips of his ears, and down at the untouched onigiri in Kenma’s lap.

He knows they need to have a conversation about this. But not here, not now. He can put it off a little longer.

Kuroo elbows him in the side. “Eat your food.”

“...I’m not hungry.”

“Eat. Your. Food.”

 

 

**xlii. Akaashi Keiji**

_(Oct. 17)_

 

The night before they leave the house in the forest, Akaashi dreams of cardboard castles.

He dreams of staring up at swirling paper towers and magnificent paper arches and stiff brown paper walls. He dreams of climbing zigzag paper stairs, making his way past the cardboard people who are easily pushed aside with the slightest touch.

He dreams of running up to the top of the princess’s tower, the one with the windows that let the air flow through (because Bokuto had told him and continued to tell him all about the castle since he made it). He dreams of leaning out the east window to look upon the cardboard towers and the cardboard courtyard, watching the sun rise up over cardboard wall. He leans out the window to get a better view. He leans so far the cardboard walls give out under his weight and he falls down, down, down, until he plops right back down on the floor where he started.

And then the floor gives out.

 

The Anti-Unwind people come for them at one in the morning. He awakens to a pair of glowing green eyes and isn’t phased in the slightest. He’s used to this routine with Bokuto now.

But he is surprised to see Iwaizumi waiting for them in the doorway leading outside. He leans against the doorway, arms crossed, fingers tapping on his elbows, lost in his thought.

“I thought we weren’t leaving together?” Akaashi asks.

Iwaizumi looks up. “We aren’t,” he says. “I just wanted to say...I’m sorry.”

Bokuto looks to Akaashi, brows furrowed. “Uh...why?”

Iwaizumi runs a hand through his hair. “I’ve been...not myself lately. This whole experiences, it’s, it’s - ”

“Stressful?” Akaashi offers.

“...yeah.” His hand drops back down to his side. “I’ve been angry and - and frustrated. I’m sorry if I directed any of that towards you guys. I didn’t mean it that way, but these safe houses are really getting to me. Small enclosed spaces - ”

“I know how you feel!” Bokuto says. “It’s so hard being contained like this! It makes me anxious and antsy and it’s even harder to sit still.”

Iwaizumi nods. “Yeah. I’m also...shit, I shouldn’t even be telling you this.” Iwaizumi looks down again, away from them. “It’s stupid. But I was...jealous of you guys. For getting to be together, while I….anyways, I’m sorry for that.”

Akaashi clenches his teeth. He feels awful for Iwaizumi - he and Bokuto knew about his situation with his boyfriend, yet they didn’t change how they acted around him. This was the one time they shouldn’t have been rubbing their relationship in their fellow AWOL’s face, yet they had flaunted it more than ever. And for all of that, it wasn’t even real. They were con men dangling a knock-off relationship temptingly in front of Iwaizumi’s eyes, claiming its authenticity. He wants to tell Iwaizumi the truth. He wonders if Bokuto feels the same.

Bokuto’s eyes are blown wide, slightly glowing in the dim light. He looks to Akaashi, and back at Iwaizumi, then back to Akaashi. He bits his lip and taps his fingers together.

“That’s understandable, Iwaizumi-san,” Akaashi says. “We don’t begrudge you that.”

“Yeah, we’re sorry if we were too over the top about our relationship,” Bokuto says. “We should have been more sensitive to your situation! We should be the ones apologizing.”

“It’s alright,” Iwaizumi says, even though the tone of his voice says otherwise. Akaashi winces. “I’m glad you guys were able to stay together, really. Hold onto each other - don’t let them take you apart,” Iwaizumi warns.

A warm hand slips around Akaashi’s. Bokuto squeezes his hand tight. “We will,” Bokuto assures.

Torn between glee and guilt, Akaashi forces himself to keep holding on.

Iwaizumi moves out from the doorway, creating a clear path to the van that sits waiting for them. “Have a nice trip,” Iwaizumi says. “Let’s meet again.”

“Yes!” Bokuto nods fervently. “We’ll see you at the Court! Then I can challenge you to a rematch. I’ll beat you for sure next time!”

Iwaizumi smirks and stretches his arms over his head, a pointed show of strength. Akaashi has to admit, they’re impressive muscles. But he still likes Bokuto’s arms better. “We’ll see about that,” Iwaizumi says.

“Hurry it up back there!” the woman from the van shouts.

Akaashi tugs Bokuto’s hand, pulling him through the doorway. “Come on, Bokuto-san.”

Iwaizumi gives Akaashi an odd look, but it quickly passes once they’re out the door.

Bokuto keeps looking back at Iwaizumi, so Akaashi continues guiding him into the car. They take one more look back, and wave to Iwaizumi. His silhouette waves back.

Their hands are still clasped when the van takes off, and they move onto new adventures, leaving the starry sky behind them.

 

Akaashi is seconds away from drifting to sleep when Bokuto says, “Hey ‘kaashi, you don’t need to use the ‘-san’ anymore”

Apparently Akaashi hadn’t been the only one to pick up on Iwaizumi’s strange looks whenever he said Bokuto’s name.

“I, uh, I think we’ve gotten past that,” Bokuto continues.

Akaashi was aware that he was still using the -san honorific. He’d been aware ever since Nakashima brought it up more than a week ago. He knows it sounds strange, and he knows Bokuto has a point.

But he’s not ready to stop using it yet.

Akaashi considers his options. He could agree with Bokuto, and drop the honorifics, or call him by a nickname, or maybe even call him by his first name. But then that could lead to Bokuto asking for his first name, and that is not a conversation Akaashi wants to have. Not yet.

He could say that they haven’t gotten past that - but that would probably cause Bokuto distress, he might misinterpret that as meaning they aren’t close at all, and Akaashi doesn’t want him to think that; Bokuto has a low enough self-esteem already.

Best to just say what he wants.

“I’d like to keep using it, Bokuto-san.”

Silence. Akaashi holds his breath in anticipation of Bokuto’s answer.

The van rocks back and forth as it carries them along the dirt road. He glances out the window; stars are slowly disappearing from the sky as they get closer and closer to civilization. Bokuto fidgets against his side. “Oh, um...okay…”

Akaashi lets out a sigh.

“..but why?” Bokuto asks.

It keeps some semblance of distance between them. If he calls Bokuto “Bokuto-san,” he can pretend they’re acquaintances, or classmates, or strangers in the passing, he can pretend they haven’t gone through hell together, he can pretend they aren’t in a relationship. He can put space between himself and this person who he cares about more than he should. The closer they are, the most he puts Bokuto at risk. The closer they are, the more vulnerable Akaashi is. Akaashi doesn’t know how to be close to someone. Akaashi’s afraid of being close to someone. _And if I doesn’t maintain that distance...I don’t know what will happen._

“No reason in particular,” Akaashi says.

“Oh,” Bokuto says, dropping his head on Akaashi’s shoulder. Akaashi jumps, but Bokuto doesn’t move.

At first it feels strange to be on the opposite end - usually Akaashi leaned his head on Bokuto’s shoulder - but Akaashi finds he doesn’t mind. It’s surprising, even though it shouldn’t be: Akaashi was never a touchy person, but around Bokuto, he craves it.

Akaashi likes Bokuto. He never could have anticipated from their first encounter, trying to plan their escape in the cell in the Juvey station, that he would end up so close to Bokuto in such a short amount of time. Akaashi blames their proximity; he knows from experience that anyone who spent every waking (and sleeping) hour with another person for weeks on ends would grow close.

Another part of Akaashi knows it’s more than that. Bokuto gives Akaashi something to think about, something to focus on so he doesn’t have to think about his past. He could focus on a lot of things besides Bokuto, yet he chooses this idiot every time.

They make a sharp turn, and Bokuto falls over into his lap.

Instead of getting up again, Bokuto situates himself horizontally, resting his head against Akaashi’s thigh, snuggling against him like a cat. Akaashi doesn’t have the heart to push him off.

This fake relationship has gotten out of hand. Akaashi knows it, he’s sure Bokuto knows it, too. They still acted like a couple even when no one else was around to see it. This was a thing couples did, right? Or maybe close friends? But Akaashi and Bokuto were neither. They were just two people thrown into a shitty situation together. They didn’t need to do all of this.

But neither of them says anything. Akaashi secretly hopes Bokuto never brings it up.

He looks down at the weight in his lap. Bokuto’s hair falls into his eyes, so Akaashi sweeps it out of the way.

Absently, he runs his hands through Bokuto’s hair. The first time he saw Bokuto, his hair had been spiked up with a wall of gel. Now, it cascades in messy waves around his face. Akaashi wonders how Bokuto got it that straight that first day. It’s greasy and knotted, so Akaashi slowly drags his fingers through the knots, carefully pulling them apart. He rubs his fingers along his scalp, tracing from the top of his forehead to the nape of his neck, combing out knots along the way.

A nail scratches against his head and Bokuto moans.

Akaashi sucks in a breath. He holds his hand over Bokuto’s hair, frozen in place. But Bokuto just snuggles closer to his stomach, the rise in his chest slow and shallow. Akaashi realizes he’s sleeping.

He lets out a long, drawn out sigh.

_What am I doing?_

 

They arrive at their new location after a few hours of driving. He glances at the clock - four thirty in the morning.

Bokuto’s still snoozing on his lap, so he shakes Bokuto’s shoulder. “Bokuto...san. Wake up.”

Bokuto snaps up, eyes drooping unevenly. He looks back and forth. “Huh? Wha? ‘kaash…”

Akaashi rolls his eyes. “We’re here,” Akaashi says, directing Bokuto out of the van.

Their newest safe house is an abandoned medical facility. The white walls and white tables are covered in so much grime that they look grey. His skin crawls at the sight.

They’re lead into a room in the center of the building. At one point, it might have been a waiting room. Now, nearly everything has been cleared away, replaced by a couple of sleeping bags and a stack of board games. One of the sleeping bags is occupied. The occupant stirs when the Anti-Unwind rebel closes the door behind them.

The person sits up, rubbing their eyes. Bokuto flicks on a light. A girl with dusty brown hair tied back in a ponytail and a splattering of freckles sits up.

Flashbacks sear his memory, stopping him in place. He’s seen that face a thousand times - he’d seen her only a month ago - yet the dissonance between a familiar face in an unfamiliar place, the clashing of his past and his present, causes him to shudder.

“Kaori?”

The girl stops rubbing her eyes and looks up slowly. Soft grey eyes meet sharp green. Her mouth drops open in shock. “Keiji! Oh my god - Keiji…”

She leaps out from her sleeping back and throws herself around him. Despite all the time they’ve spent together, Akaashi has only honestly hugged Kaori a handful of times. But now, he clenches onto her tightly. 

Kaori gives him one last squeeze and lets go of him. Her mouth forms a smile, tears brimming in her eyes. “I’m so glad to see you again Keiji…”

In that moment, it hits him - what’s she doing here? The joy at seeing her is eclipsed by a shadow of shock and guilt and resentment. If she’s in a safehouse, that means she’s an AWOL, and that means he wasn’t the only casualty of the incident.

“Why are you here?” Akaashi asks. “The Producer said he wouldn’t - ”

Akaashi cuts himself off when Kaori’s smile drops. She takes a step back, her face the perfect picture of disbelief. The sudden weight of guilt on his chest sends his heart plummeting down to his stomach, sinking into digestive juices.

“Wait...you know what happened?” she asks. She covers her mouth with her hands, and her tears start coming faster. “Did you...are the you reason...?”

She hadn’t known. _She hadn’t known._ And Akaashi essentially had admitted his guilt.

“Um, I’m sorry to interrupt, but Akaashi...who’s this? And what did she call call you?”

Akaashi has never been more thankful for one of Bokuto’s interruptions. Akaashi was so absorbed in his guilt he’d nearly forgotten about Bokuto. He can tell Bokuto’s trying to hold back and trying be respectful, but he knows he’s probably burning with curiosity.  

“Bokuto-san...this is Kaori. We were...we were in a band together.”

He knows he told Bokuto he’d tell him the truth about himself soon. He had wanted it to be on his own terms, but with Kaori here, he doesn’t know how he can hide this any longer.

“She called me by my first name. Keiji was the name I went by when I was the bassist of the idol group FUKURO4.”

Bokuto stares at him in awe. Akaashi feels himself burning up.

“So that’s your first name…” Bokuto mutters.

Akaashi almost laughs. Only Bokuto would notice that first.

He makes the mistake of meeting Kaori’s eye. He knows she’s waiting for an explanation. She deserves that much -

“Wait - FUKURO4 - that’s the name of the band from the song you were singing the other day, right?” Bokuto asks.

Akaashi nods.

“Whoa - that’s crazy! That means you’re like, an idol! Oh my gosh, I’m dating an idol! But how did an idol end up...you know, here?” Bokuto asks. “I mean, people practically worship you!”

“Yeah, how _did_ we end up here?” Kaori butts in. Akaashi flinches, and Kaori’s harsh glare turns sympathetic. She reaches out and pats his shoulder. “I'm sorry. I know you, Keiji, you wouldn’t do anything to hurt us. I just...I need to know.”

Akaashi doesn’t answer her. He would never intentionally hurt them, but here Kaori was, and Komi and Konoha were no doubt in the same situation, and that’s only if they were lucky. And it was all Akaashi’s fault - it had to be.

Kaori reaches her hand “Keiji….what happened?”

Memories he’d spent so much energy trying to drown swim to the surface, and Akaashi knows there’s no more smooth sailing from here.

“I’d ask you not to think badly of me after I tell you this, but I fear that’s be asking too much of you,” Akaashi says, sitting down on the floor and making himself comfortable. “I’ll start by saying I’m sorry...and that I never intended for any of this to happen.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :) next: the backstory you've all been waiting for


	14. Beginnings (pt. 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi Keiji has a long, long flashback. Iwaizumi Hajime should not be allowed in the kitchen under any circumstances. Tsukishima Kei can and will judge your hairstyle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im sorry this took so much longer than expected, my beta and i were busy and also this chapter kicked me ass? i had to rewrite a lot of it and ive read this through 2 million times bc i wanted to make it as good as it could be for y'all. enjoy~
> 
> *i made a slight change to a part in chapter 9 (where akaashi has a flashback) but it doesn't make that much of a difference so y'all don't really have to worry about it

**xlii. Akaashi Keiji (continued)**

 

“Whoa, you’re really good at that, Kei-chan.”

Akaashi draws his bow over the strings of the cello again, completing the scale. “Thanks, Saru. You’re really good, too.”

Sarukui places his bow on the stand and lowers his violin into his lap. “Yeah, I am, aren’t I?”

Now that they’re ten years old, they’ve deciding on their specializations. Akaashi has known he wanted to be a talent ever since he held a cello for the first time last year. He and Sarukui have been sharing the same practice room recently. Even though he hasn’t been playing as long as Akaashi, he’s getting better quickly. In class, Sarukui fidgets in his seat and interrupts the instructors, but with his violin tucked under his chin, Sarukui will sit still and play for hours.

Sarukui picks his violin up again. He pokes Akaashi with his bow. “Hey. Bet I can play my scales faster than you.”

Akaashi pokes him back. “Aren’t we supposed to play them good, not fast?”

“You’re just too chicken to challenge me!”

“Fine! Challenge accepted.”

They play their scales, Akaashi beating him out by a hair. Akaashi likes Sarukui. He hopes they can get better together. Maybe they could even join the same professional orchestra some day!

Akaashi shares this dream with his friend, and Sarukui sounds delighted.

“This is gonna be awesome!” Sakurui tells him, waving his bow around. “We’re going to be the best violinist and best cello-ist ever!”

 

For the next three years, they play together in the practice room nearly every day. Both individual practice, and duets. Sarukui tells him he’s happiest when he’s playing, when their instructors can’t yell at him and the other kids can’t bully him. Akaashi’s happiest when he’s practicing, too.

Everything’s perfect, until Sarukui doesn’t show up to practice one day.

Or the next day, or the next, or the next.

Akaashi asks around, but no one has seen him. Sarukui’s room has been vacated, cleared of all belongings. The desk where he sat was removed. His violin isn’t in the storage closet, and his sheet music has disappeared into thin air. It’s like he never existed.

Akaashi knows what happened. Akaashi knows what happened, but he doesn’t want to believe it, even though the facts are staring him in the face. There was a gleaning last week. There was only one reason why staho kids left the staho for good. He knew the instructors got annoyed by Saru’s constant fidgeting and talking out of turn, but he never thought it would come to this.  

The dream he had doesn’t sound as sweet coming from one lonely cello.

 

Something changes in Akaashi after Sarukui is unwound. His reality becomes much more clear. He becomes distrustful of the other unwinds, of the instructors - which one of them determined Saru wasn’t good enough to keep around? Better to not trust anyone. At any moment, the administration could decide he wasn’t good enough and ship him off to harvest camp, and Akaashi would disappear. So Akaashi works harder than anyone else to ensure he comes out on top, because they can’t unwind the best. He masters pieces even pros struggle with. He teaches himself bass and bass guitar. He attracts attention from the reality show Staho Stars, and relishes the opportunity to play in one of their specials. He does everything he can to show the administration he’s different than Sarukui - he’s worth something.

_I must survive, I must survive, I must survive._

 

Tokyo Five was never the grandest of stahos, but it wasn’t the poorest, either. It came as a surprise to everyone when rumors started circulating about bankruptcy.

“I heard one of the administrators was embezzling money.”

“They’ve been running on emergency funds for a long time, trust me.”

“They’re going to have to move us out - they’re going to have to move everything.”

“Rumors! It’s just a rumor, right?”

“If we really are going bankrupt...what are they going to do with us?”

Anything that concerns his future deserves his attention, so Akaashi listens to all the rumors closely. But the truth catches him first.

He’s called into an administrator’s office. His special on Staho Stars had aired a few months ago; Akaashi hopes this meeting is concerning that, and not the gossip he’s been hearing.

Sitting across from the administrator is a man. He’s tall, and his presence alone takes up half the room. Despite his simple attire - a pressed grey suit and a tasteful gold watch - he drips with wealth. Gangly arms and legs are offset by a slight pouch at his waist and a hanging jowl. Sharp brown eyes meet his own. The man smiles. Akaashi wants to believe it’s a kind smile.

“Akaashi Keiji,” the man says. His voice rumbles like the aftermath of an earthquake. “Take a seat.”

Akaashi obeys. He kicks his legs nervously, waiting for the man to speak again.

“I saw your special on Staho Stars. You were very good.”

“Thank you,” Akaashi says.

“You’re welcome,” the man says kindly. “More importantly, you have a pretty face. And you’ve already been on TV.”

Now he’s confused. “Um...thank you?”

“You play bass guitar as well, correct?”

Akaashi nods.

“Excellent.” The man claps his hands together. “Allow me to introduce myself. I’m a producer. I find up and coming artists like yourself and craft you into stars.” The Producer leans forward. “How would you like to be an idol?”

For a mere second after he hears those words, Akaashi is astonished, thrilled, dazzled by the idea that his dream to become a musician was possible.

But reality quickly takes the wheel, and Akaashi puts his hope under lock and key; this sounds too good to be true. He looks to the administrator for a clue.

“He’s telling the truth,” the other man says. Nothing about his expression gives anything else away.

“Why are you offering this to me?” Akaashi asks.

“Like I said - you’re a talented musician. And you have a pretty face,” the Producer said.

One part of himself doesn’t trust either of these men, but that part is easily overshadowed by the thrill of being offered his dream on a silver platter.

The Producer leans forward, immaculate white teeth showing through his smile. “So - what do you say?”

If he was an idol, he would be untouchable - he wouldn’t just survive, he would thrive.

“I would...I would love to have that opportunity,” Akaashi says slowly, trying to mask his excitement.

The Producer smiles. “Wonderful.” He pushes a thick stack of papers across the desk, and points to a line at the bottom. “If you sign here, your unwind contract will be postponed until a month before your eighteenth birthday.”

Akaashi freezes. “My...my what?”

The Producer turns toward the administrator. “Oh. He doesn’t know, does he?”

The administrator clears his throat. He looks a little annoyed. “No. Though, I suppose he does now...”

“Know what?” Akaashi asks, his joy quickly being doused with terror. “What do you mean, postpone my unwind order? Am I being unwound?”

“Not just you,” the administrator says. “Everyone.”

“Everyone!?”

“Well, only those who are of age, of course,” the administrator says. “The younger residents will be spread across Tokyo’s other stahos.”

“I don’t understand…”

The Producer answers him this time. “To make up for Tokyo Five’s debt, they are converting this state home into an unwinding facility. All its residents will be unwound, and your parts will be sold to pay for the expenses.”

Akaashi thought the rumors were bad, but the reality was much worse.

“You shouldn’t be telling him this,” the administrator hisses.

“Relax,” the Producer says, “he won’t tell a soul. Either he signs the contract and keeps his mouth shut until we pick him up next week, or we take him to harvest camp right now.”

Akaashi is still shocked from learning the fate of Tokyo Five, but already he’s faced with this ultimatum. Immediately, his survival instincts kick in.

He can’t let the Producer take him now, so that leaves him two options. On one hand, he could lie to the Producer. He could sign the contract, then tell all the staho residents what was going on. Maybe, just maybe, a few of them would make it out before they entered a divided state. Akaashi probably wouldn’t be one of them.

On the other hand, he could take this deal. The rest of Tokyo Five would be unwound, but Akaashi would live on as an idol. Even if the contract eventually expired, Akaashi would at least be buying himself time.

“I’m giving you a chance to live, Akaashi. I advise you take it.”

He thinks of Sarukui, and of their dream to become professional musicians one day. Akaashi wonders where his parts are now. Did his fingers still remember his violin scales?

This decision should be harder than it is.

“May I have a pen?”

 

The next week is the longest and most awful week of Akaashi’s life. He doesn’t speak to anyone. He even can’t look at them, knowing nearly every single one of them will become harvest camp fodder. He keeps his mouth shut - when he hears more crazy rumors, even when they ask questions when the Producer comes to pick him up - exactly as the Producer demanded. Bile builds up in his throat, making his tongue burn with guilt.

Akaashi is an awful person, doing an awful thing, watching and waiting, turning a blind eye to the hundreds of ignorant children who unknowingly await their demise. _Pigs for slaughter,_ Akaashi thinks. _And I’m as good as a butcher._

So he doesn’t talk. If he opens his mouth, the truth will come spilling out. And if that happens, he’ll become a walking pile of parts. Akaashi refuses to let that happen.

 

_Rule #1: You will do anything I ask, or your contract expires._

“I’m exhausted.”

“We’re all exhausted, Konoha.”

“Well I’m way more exhausted than you, Komi.”

“Not possible. Do you know how much energy it takes to play drums?”

Akaashi chips in. “Can’t be much, considering you’re just sitting there.”

Konoha and Kaori break into laughter. Komi pouts while Akaashi leans back and smirks.

_Rule #2: Follow the schedule exactly. I don’t care how exhausted you are - you must be where I designate you to be at all times._

The four members of FUKURO4 have an on-site break for the next hour. They lounge on plush couches shaped in a semi-circle in the middle of the floor - Kaori and Akaashi on one couch, Komi and Konoha on the other - watching make-up artists and stylists and film crew running around them. Kaori munches on a bag of snacks from the table in front of them, just as amused as Akaashi by their drummer and guitar player’s bickering.

“You’re too cruel to me, Akaashi,” Komi jokes, throwing an arm over his face dramatically. He leans into Konoha’s shoulder. “Comfort me, Akinori~”

Konoha obliges, petting Komi’s puff of hair. “What else can you expect from the cold, mysterious Keiji?” he teases, sending Akaashi a wink.

_Rule #3: You are a new person now. Forget who you used to be - they don’t exist any more._

Akaashi hates the persona he plays - he’s supposed to be the quiet, “mysterious” one, the “tsundere” who never smiles and but hides a caring heart behind his cold stare. “Beautiful and untouchable,” the Producer tells him again and again, “but vulnerable around your friends.” The person he pretended to be had nothing in common with who Akaashi thought he really was, but “Keiji’s” personality is contagious; ever since a year ago when he sealed the contract with the Producer, he’s become more quiet and distant, closing off his heart and soul to protect himself from the claws of idol culture and the guilt that a hundred faces from Tokyo Five whisper in his ear every night.

The only people who’ve come close to breaking past his exterior are his bandmates: Konoha, the jokester who can make anyone smile, Komi, the kind soul who loves his friends unabashedly, and Kaori, their friendly and confident leader. Those were the personas they adopted. In lots of ways, their personas were a part of their true personality, but only a small part of it. After a year of being around each other for hours on end, Akaashi’s slowly beginning to understand who they really are.  

Konoha continues running his fingers through Komi’s hair, going so far as to stroke his hand down along Komi’s cheek. Akaashi notes the gaggle of female hairstylists a couple paces away, who stop and giggle, pointing at Komi and Konoha’s display of affection.

_...and how truly annoying they are._

“Those girls are watching you,” Akaashi tells them.

“That just means more popularity for us,” Konoha notes. He pats Komi’s cheek. “Isn’t that right, Haru-chan?”

Komi pushes his hand away and sits up. “Okay, too much. The next time you call me that you’re _dead_.”

_Rule #4: No dating, fake or otherwise. But flirting is encouraged between you boys._

The hairstylists giggle, no doubt chattering away about how cute “Konomi” was. The Producer would applaud their behavior; any teasing between the boys in the group was highly encouraged. The fujoshis loved it, and when the fujoshis loved something, they spent money. The Producer knew exactly what he was doing with all the duo songs and merchandise that pairs the boys together. Kaori was their leader that tied it all together - fawning and blushing and encouraging the boys to get closer on stage - the spot a fujoshi could see herself in. Fans devoted themselves to one of the three ships, even as the band said their relationships were platonic - which they were. Akaashi knew that there had even been an actual fight between “Konomi” and “Keinoha” fans at one of their concerts. With this strategy, the Producer was probably raking in cash.

If he wasn’t, that would be a problem for Akaashi. So, even this gross marketing ploy made him extremely uncomfortable, he played the part, exactly as the Producer asked.

A sudden quiet comes over the studio. People stop running around, the buzz of the room dies, and all heads turn the same way. Akaashi follows their gaze.

At the other side of the room, the crowd parts, and the Producer steps through, suit impeccable, jowls swaying, eyes as cold as steel. He’s followed by a group of boys about their age. They look up at the lofty ceiling and in awe at the Producer before them.

“Are those - ”

“Hebimeta,” Akaashi says. “The Producer’s newest catch.”

Akaashi always kept tabs on the other idol groups. Especially ones the Producer himself handled. These recruits would make up a new idol group that played hefty metal, so the Producer could have a foot in the genre. Judging by their ages, they must be in the same situation as FUKURO4: unwinds who the Producer rescued from being unwound. As long as their contract held, and they played the part of perfect idols, at least.

The public didn’t know that the majority of young idols were unwinds, of course. Knowing that the children they worshipped were the same ones they disdained would rattle the masses.

It’s sickening. But if Akaashi wants to survive, he needs to play their game.

He feels pity for Hebimeta, but mostly he feels wary. Once they started rising in the ranks - as the Producer would make sure they would - they would no longer be fellow unwinds, but competition for the top.

_Rule #5: Play nice with your costars. Petty feuds give me a headache._

He watches the new recruits as the crowd parts around them. One of them walks slightly in front, just behind the Producer, almost strutting as he takes everything in with a sparkle in his eye. His hair is swept back into a perfect arc above his forehead; Akaashi’s sure the Producer will want to change that look.

Suddenly he turns Akaashi’s way, brown eyes meeting green.

He winks at him.

Akaashi flinches. He doubts they’ll get along.

 

When the Producer announced FUKURO4 would be doing a photoshoot with Hebimeta, Akaashi was irritated, but he was not surprised. Rivalry groups meant the Producer could exploit his favorite marketing tactic: hate ships.

After a few month of popularity, Hebimeta has joined the ranks just below FUKURO4. Now the Producer was using FUKURO4’s popularity to gain favor for Hebimeta. It makes Akaashi nervous. This meant Hebimeta was becoming serious competition. Even though they played entirely different genres, their fanbase was the same - music was the least of their fan’s priorities. He knows the Producer said their contract would hold until they were nearing eighteen, but that was unless they failed to fulfill their job as an idol. If they fell off the top charts, did that count as failing as an idol?  

The FUKURO4 members are dressed in their signature gold, and Hebimeta in green leather. For each of the shots, the boys are paired up together in different combinations, Kaori alone and always in front. They rotated out, draping over each other in suggestive poses.

The first time they did this kind of photoshoot, Akaashi was stiff and uncomfortable. To the disdain of the crew, it took four hours to get a decent shot. He knew how to hide his discomfort excellently, now. He’s still not a touchy person, but he can pretend he is with ease.

Yet his expertise is tested when it comes to the last round, when Akaashi is paired with Daishou, the leader of Hebimeta, the one who’d winked at Akaashi that first day.

They’re placed front and center, right next to Kaori. Daishou places his hand on Akaashi’s shoulder and winks at him again.

Akaashi holds back a scowl. Already, Daishou was more presumptuous than any of the others. He hates when idols play the Producer’s game so easily. Didn’t they resent how they were being used?

Akaashi points his signature brooding stare at the cameras, refusing to look at Daishou as flashes go off.

“I finally get the beautiful bassist all to myself, and this is the treatment I get?” Daishou whispers. A finger snakes under his chin and forces their faces to meet.  His eyes are different from when he first saw him - bright green pigment, almost neon, replaced their original dark brown.

Akaashi clenches his jaw, forcing himself to keep a straight face as he meets Daishou’s teasing stare. He refuses to give Daishou the satisfaction of playing this game with him.  

_Flash!_

Daishou smiles innocently. “There. Isn’t that better?”

“Why are you playing their games?” Akaashi mutters.

Daishou smiles condescendingly, like Akaashi’s the childish one. He curls his arm around Akaashi’s shoulder while sliding his other hand up his chest. Akaashi’s whole body tenses, but he lets himself be taken. “I want to live just as much as you, Keiji-chan,” Daishou whispers in his ear, “I’ll do whatever it takes to win. Won’t you?”

Akaashi snarls.

_Flash!_

“That’s perfect! Keep it up, boys.”

His fists clench, grasping the threads of frustration tight against his palm. He just can’t win. Whether he flirts with Daishou or rebels against him, whether he plays by their rules or not, Akaashi’s always doing exactly what the Producer wants.

 _I want to live just as much as you._ It must mean that Daishou was playing this role to the extreme to ensure he lives as long as he can. Akaashi said he would do anything to survive, yet he still resists the Producer’s wishes when he can. Would he go as far as Daishou does to save himself? Akaashi has tossed aside his dignity to get here and live another day. He supposes this isn’t any different. His fear of being unwound would win out of over keeping his dignity any day. In a way, he finds himself having a grudging respect for the leader of Hebimeta.

Maybe Daishou is right. Maybe playing this role to the extreme is the only way to guarantee his safety.

The photoshoot ends, and Daishou slaps his ass and heads for the door. “Thanks for the boost, Keiji-chan,” Daishou calls out behind him.

Akaashi may respect him, but that doesn’t mean he likes him.

 

As he walks back to the hotel from the photoshoot, he hears a familiar voice as he passes by an alleyway.

“...missed you.”

It’s Daishou. Akaashi pauses and listens. What’s he doing sneaking around?

“You say that every time, Suguru.”

It sounds like a female’s voice. That explained the sneakiness.  

_Rule #4: No dating, fake or otherwise._

“Well it’s true. Every time.”

“Suguru…!”

Daishou sighs. “I wish I could see you more often.”

“Why can’t you?”

“Mika…”

“I don’t understand why you can’t just quit.”

“It’s not so simple.”

Akaashi sympathizes with that. _Mika, you have no idea._

“Nothing’s simple with you, is it?”

“...”

“But that’s what I love about you.”

“M-mika!”

With each giggle they exchange between each other, Akaashi’s respect for Daishou crumbles a little more. For all his talk about doing whatever it takes to survive, by fraternizing with “Mika,” he was putting himself at the greatest risk. Akaashi didn’t understand how this could be worth it.

It’s apparent to Akaashi that if Daishou is being this careless, he can’t want to live that much.

 

“A tour? Together?”

That last photo shoot must have been more successful than Akaashi had anticipated. Now, FUKURO4 would be going on tour - with Hebimeta as their opening act.

The others sound excited, Kaori and Konoha especially. They like visiting new cities, visiting new fans. Akaashi tells himself he doesn’t care, as long as they’re selling. He’s no longer sure who’s boosting whose popularity. Are they still trying to give Hebimeta a boost? Or is FUKURO4 losing their touch?

Komi nudges his shoulder. “We probably won’t see them that much - you don’t have to worry.”

He had probably sensed Akaashi’s unease with this situation. Was his dislike of Hebimeta that obvious? “I’m not worrying,” he says.

“Sure,” Komi says sarcastically.

Akaashi’s not worried. He just doesn’t like the lead singer of Hebimeta, and doesn’t want to interact with him any more than he has too, which will probably be a lot, now.

 _It could be worse_ , Akaashi tells himself, familiar faces of Tokyo Five coming to mind, _it could always be worse._

 

The tour is going fine, until Daishou opens his mouth.

The earpiece does little to muffle the sounds of a thousand screaming fans waiting for them. The gold leggings ride up his ass like usual, and the matching blazer sits heavy on his shoulders. He’s already sweating; even from here, he can feel the heat of the hot stage lights that flash and swirl in a rainbow of colors. The smell of smoke and sweat mixes into something much fouler. But the roar of the crowd and the anticipation of feeling his bass in his hands gets him excited.

The crowd roars even louder as Hebimeta finishes their last song. Akaashi tugs on his blazer, toes curling in his boots at the sound of Daishou’s voice thanking the fans for their support. He sounds so fake, Akaashi’s truly astonished that they eat it up like candy. Akaashi has come to realize that everything about Daishou was fake - even the one real thing he had with that girl was built on a lie.

Akaashi doesn’t know why Daishou irritates him so much. Everyone’s a liar in this business, including himself. What made Daishou different? Was Akaashi envious at the way he seamlessly fit into his role? That he was slowly becoming the Producer’s favorite? Was he jealous that Daishou didn’t have to live with the weight of a hundred unwinds on his back? Does he resent that Daishou has something more to care about, his motive for living something other than fear?

As a black screen goes down in front of the stage, the stage manager tells them to get ready to go on. Hebitmeta jogs off the stage through the same way FUKURO4 will enter, all smiles and cheers.

Akaashi watches the backstage crew as they place his bass on stage. Akaashi fixates on the polished white curves of his instrument, focusing on the thought of playing and making music.

A hand on his shoulder throws him off balance. It slides down his arm, lingering at the crook of his elbow. Akaashi yanks his arm back, only to meet the gaze of the hand’s owner.

Daishou smiles at him. With the and those narrow neon eyes, Akaashi swears he looks exactly like a snake.

“Good luck, Keiji~” Daishou says. He leans in closer, breath trailing across his neck. “Against us, you’ll need it.”

His words shake Akaashi to his core, ensuing a whirlwind of panic and fear. What did he mean by that? Was he insinuating this was a competition? Was it like the staho, where only the best came out alive? Did that mean one of them could lose? Is the Producer looking to replace them? Does he still have to fight his way to the top to survive? Why did he only tell Akaashi?

By the time he’s recovered his wits, Daishou is long gone, and someone is pushing Akaashi on stage.

Fighting through a daze as thick as honey, Akaashi picks up his instrument. When the black screen goes up and the show begins, only muscle memory keeps him moving - fingers forming chords around the familiar neck of his bass, feet carrying him across the stage in choreographed patterns, mouth moving of its own accord, singing back-up to songs that he’s rehearsed for countless hours. In front of him is the the black mass of the crowd, but Akaashi doesn’t really see them, or hear them. He only hears those words repeated over and over again.

_Good luck. Against us, you’ll need it._

The moment the show finishes, Akaashi dashes for Daishou’s dressing room. There are no security guards by his door. Did he already go home for the night?

Akaashi throws open the door.  

Daishou jumps at his intrusion. He sits on a cushioned bench by the window, still decked out in stage makeup, though he’s changed into casual clothing.

Daishou quickly masks his surprise with a teasing smirk. “As much as I love to be surprised by a pretty face like yours,” Daishou says, “a little warning would be kind.” The lilt in his voice sounds like an out of tune violin.

Akaashi closes the door behind him.

“What did you mean by that? By what you said to me?”

Now that he knows why Akaashi’s here, Daishou appears to relax. “I meant what I said,” he says with a shrug.

Akaashi walks over to Daishou, lauding his height over the seated boy. “You said ‘against.’ ‘Against us.’ This isn’t a competition.”

“And who told you that?”

“It’s not a competition,” Akaashi repeats, voice wavering. The more he says it, the less he believes it.

“Tell that to the Producer. He’s the one pitting us against each other, isn’t he?”

Fear builds up inside him, brick by brick, mortared together with every word that leaves Daishou’s lips. Is he bluffing? As much as Akaashi wants to believe he’s bluffing, he wouldn’t put it past the Producer to pull something like this. It's always a competition - that's what life at the staho taught him. It’s safer to believe him and overcompensate than dismiss this as a lie and pay the price later.

“Was that a warning? Are you challenging FUKURO4?” Akaashi asks. “Then shouldn’t you be talking to Kaori? She’s our leader.”

Daishou winks. “But you’re so much more fun to tease, Kei-chan.”

Akaashi winces at the nickname. “Don’t call me that.” His voice doesn’t have any power behind it.

“Don’t take it personally,” Daishou says. He rises from his seat, stepping towards Akaashi. “I’m only trying to stay alive, same as you.”

Fists clenched, Akaashi struggles to find words. He understands Daishou’s sentiment - or lack thereof - a bit too well.

“This - ” Daishou gestures to the dressing room, to the concert hall, to the tour, “ - is the our first step to surpassing you. I hope you’re ready for a challenge.”

With his life on the line, Akaashi has to play dirty.

He panics. The wall of fear collapses. He lunges at Daishou.

He knocks Daishou to the onto the floor. Akaashi sits on his thighs, knees on his hands. His hands clench around Daishou’s throat. Daishou thrashes underneath him, but Akaashi only grips harder. His struggling grows weaker and weaker until his only movement comes from the wheeze of his throat.

Akaashi lets go. Daishou immediately sucks in a deep breath. He coughs, throat bobbing under reddened skin. His eyes narrow into crinkled slits, staring up at Akaashi defiantly.

It wasn’t enough. If the Producer is looking to replace them, Akaashi can’t leave it like this.

_I can’t let them surpass me, I can’t fall behind, I have to survive, I have to survive -_

Another voice in his head whispers, _Even at the sake of others?_

More than anything, Akaashi fears ending up like the residents of Tokyo Five. Like Sarukui. Forever bound in limbo, erased from existence, a fate worse than death.

He swings his fist at Daishou’s face. His knuckles meet bone and a strong crack rips across Daishou’s face.

He cries out in pain, but Akaashi smothers his cries with another hand to his throat. Blood gushes out his nose and down his chin, spilling onto Akaashi’s hand.

Akaashi sits back, releasing his hands from under his knees. Daishou’s hands immediately shoot for his nose.

While Daishou’s distracted by the pain in his nose, Akaashi spins around, grabs his ankle, and twists it sharply.

_Crack!_

Daishou cries out again, but his voice comes out as a pitiful squeak. He releases Daishou’s leg, foot flopping awkwardly on the ground. Blood from Akaashi’s hand circles the rapidly swelling ankle.

It was a move one of the older staho kids taught him. He’s never used it before. He doesn’t want to use it again - the sound of the cracking bone grates on his ears - but he will if he has to, without hesitation.

The broken ankle would put Daishou out of commission for the rest of the tour, whether the Producer decided to put it in a cast or to replace it with a new, healthier bone for a quicker heal.

“I accept your challenge,” Akaashi says.

Still holding his nose, Daishou’s face contorts, a showcase of myriad emotions. He opens his mouth, and the words that come out are hoarse, “I’m gonna - ”

“And don’t even think about telling the Producer,” Akaashi snaps. “Or I’ll tell him about Mika.”

His mouth goes slack. Daishou’s neon eyes, always brimming with confidence, grow wide with fear.

“You wouldn’t - ”

“Try me.” Akaashi heads for the door, leaving Daishou lying there. He stops with his palm on the handle. “Or don’t. That’d be better for the both of us.”

He slips out the room and into the bathroom before anyone notices him, and calmly washes the blood from his fingers.

 

“That’s crazy, what happened to Daishou.”

“I can’t believe a fan would do that.”

“They still haven’t identified the culprit?”

“I don’t think so.”

“How did they even catch him? Where were his security guards?”

"However it happened, it's fucked up."

“I hope we don’t have fans like that.”

At the news of a rabid fan attacking the lead singer of Hebimeta, the band had been pulled from the line-up to give him time to recover. FUKURO4 was still on tour, but the other members fretted about the incident.

Now they stand around the a new stage, waiting for soundcheck to start. Akaashi grips onto his instrument like a lifeline.

“It’s terrible. Just terrible,” Kaori says.

Akaashi clenches the neck of his bass. The strings dig into his callouses. “That’s what he gets for sending his guards away,” he notes.

They all look at him questionably. “That’s cold even for you, man,” Konoha says.

Akaashi regretted what he did the moment he walked out of that dressing room. Fear possessed him in that first move, while resentment guided his hands. He could blame his actions on fear, anger, the heat of the moment, but in the end, it was he who assaulted Daishou. All because Daishou _might_ have been telling the truth, because one day Hebimeta _might_ surpass FUKURO4, and the Producer _might_ cut their contracts short if they did. The image of a grossly twisted ankle appears behind closed eyelids. The crack of bone echoes at the least expected moments. And Akaashi isn’t sure whether the blood is completely washed from his hands.

This wasn't like his calculated decision with Tokyo Five. What he did was stupid and reckless and the act of a cornered animal. But if he could go back in time, Akaashi’s not sure he would do anything different.

 

FUKURO4 run to their dressing rooms after finishing the last show of their tour. Akaashi and Kaori and Konoha and Komi jump and cheer and throw flowers from their fans around the room, adrenaline from the show still running hot in their veins. It’s moments like these that Akaashi can almost pretend that everything’s all right.

Kaori raises a cup of soda. “Here’s to success!” she shouts.

“Success!” three simultaneous voices sound.

They laugh and joke around with each other, revelling in their success, until their security guards escort them back to their hotels.

By the time Akaashi returns to his room, he’s exhausted. He can’t wait to to crash into bed and finally get some shut eye. He wishes security a good night, and closes his door behind him.

He flicks on a light, and nearly screams.

There’s someone waiting inside his room. A girl he doesn’t recognize, with straight brown hair and bangs and fire in her eyes.

Akaashi quickly locks the door behind him. Fear lights up within him. What was she doing here? How did she get in here? Did anyone see her?

“How did you get in here?” he hisses.

“I have friends in high places,” she says. She watches him with predatory intent. Akaashi is familiar with intimidating stares from his time in the staho, but this feels less like the glare of a delinquent out for his pocket money and more like the stare of a wild cat stalking its prey.

“My name is Mika.” Akaashi’s heart climbs up his throat. “I’m Daishou Suguru’s...sister. He was assaulted by a fan. They put him in the hospital. You know about that, right?”

Akaashi nods. Mika - that was who Daishou was talking to that one time, his girlfriend. Should he call security? What will they think if they find him alone in here with a girl? If they misinterpret this situation, he’s done for. He has to wait this out.

“I don’t believe him,” Mika says. “I could tell he was lying to me. They said he was attacked on his way back to his hotel, but he wasn’t walking back to his hotel. He was still in his dressing room. I know because I was with him up until then. But you know that too, don’t you?”

She knows. _She knows she knows she knows -_

“You’re the one who did that to him, aren’t you?” she continues. Angry tears gather in her eyes. “You’re the one that hurt Daishou.”

 _Fuck._ Apparently the threat hadn’t been enough for Daishou to keep quiet. “He told you - ” Akaashi stops himself before he can say anything else. In his shock at her accusation, he’d panicked and practically admitted his guilt. _Fuck!_

“He didn’t tell me anything. I knew.” Mika narrows her eyes. “Only someone as cold as you could do that.”

A stab at his character, her words hurt him in a way he hasn’t hurt in a long time. Keiji, the calculating, unfeeling bassist of FUKURO4, with a gaze like ice. The persona he adopted for the public was a mere facade, yet Mika had guessed - correctly - that he was the culprit from that alone.

Was he really becoming that person?

Is he already that person?

“That’s not - that’s only who I pretend to be, for the cameras - ”

“Then why did you do it?” she shouts. Akaashi prays the walls are as soundproof as they’re meant to be. “What do you have against Suguru?”

“I - nothing, it - it wasn’t personal.” Akaashi regurgitates Daishou’s words, but they don’t fit right in his mouth.

Mika snarls. “They’re so such thing as an impersonal crime, bastard.”

Akaashi’s breath catches. _She’s wrong,_ he tells himself. _You didn’t mean anything by it. You were just protecting yourself._

“I don’t know why Suguru isn’t telling anyone the truth,” she says. “But that’s fine. I’ll tell them myself. You deserve to be punished for what you did to him.”

“You can’t tell them!” he protests. If she tells them, everything will be over. “If you tell them, I’ll tell them that you and Daishou are dating in secret!”

Mika’s eyes widen. “I’m his sister - ”

“That’s bullshit and we both know it.”

Mika curls her lip, fists clenching at her sides. Akaashi braces himself for her to come at him, but she doesn’t move from her spot. She takes a deep breath, and lets her anger fade. “That’s okay. If we can’t be together...I’ll give that up, as long as you can’t hurt Suguru anymore.”

“Daishou’s an unwind.”

The words are out of his mouth before he thinks it through. Mika didn’t know what she was getting into by throwing accusations around, and Akaashi had to set her straight. He doesn’t know what will happen between them now that he’s exposed Daishou’s secret. He doesn’t care. He just needs to get out of this. This is blackmail, but it’s the only leverage he has left.  

Mika just looks confused. “What…?”

“He’s an unwind. We all are,” Akaashi says. He explains how the Producer delayed each of their unwindings, how the climb for the top is just insurance that the contract will hold until the end. “And if any of us breaks the rules, we’ll be sent to harvest camp. If you tell anyone about this, we’ll both be - we’ll both…”

Mika looks down at the ground, the fire in her eyes reduced to ash and embers. Akaashi can’t tell what she’s thinking. Is she the kind who discriminates against unwinds? Will she hate Daishou for being who he is? For lying to her?

Akaashi hopes she truly loves him. Then, she could never knowingly doom Daishou to that fate. If Daishou was safe, so was Akaashi. And in the end, that’s all that matters.

“You’re a terrible person, Keiji.”

She glides past him like a ghost. She doesn’t look at him once as she walks out the door and slams it closed behind her.

He holds has breath as he hears her stomps echo down the hallway outside. He prays no one saw her leave.

After a minute of holding his breath, Akaashi leans back against the door and lets out a sigh. His heart pounds so loud he can hear it in his ears and feel it in his chest. He brings his hands up to his face. They’re shaking. His whole body is shaking.

He swallows down his guilt. It sinks down his throat into his stomach, resting uncomfortably at his core. It builds onto the guilt already resting there, courtesy of the residents of Tokyo Five. He feels horrible about what he did the Daishou, and how he treated Mika, but he did what had to be done. He doesn’t want to end up like Sarukui. Or the kids from Tokyo Five.

_You’re a terrible person, Keiji._

That’s what he had to do to survive.

Right?

 

His door slams against the wall. Akaashi snaps awake, his eyes surging open. Bright light floods his vision. Three men in navy and red file into his room, surrounding his bed, blocking any exit before he’s awake enough to think.

“What’s going on?” he asks. The Juvies remain mute, not daring to look at him.

Another man walks through the door. He recognizes this one - the Producer.

Akaashi watches him as he struts into the room, steps slow and deliberate. His shoes don’t make a sound against the soft carpet, but Akaashi imagines the room shakes with each step he takes.

He reaches the edge of Akaashi’s bed, and looks at him, mouth pulled in a taut, unamused line.

“...why?” Akaashi asks when he remains silent.

“We know what you did,” the Producer says. Akaashi’s heart drops to his stomach, he holds his breath in anticipation.

How did he find out? Did Mika end up telling him? Would she have done that, knowing what dirt he had on Daishou? Did someone see her leave his room the other night?

“We can’t let this get out, so we’re going to cut the problem off at the root.”

The Juvies. The dramatic entrance in the middle of the night. He knows what’s happening, but he can’t believe it -

“Your contract is up, Keiji.”

  


By the time he’s done talking, the sun has risen high in the sky, and Akaashi has sewn his heart on his sleeve. No - he’s carved it out of his chest himself, and offered it up with blood still running warm.

He feels like he’s rubbed his skin raw, barring every inch of himself up for judgement. He has exposed himself for the fraud he is, the wizard of Oz, frail and small behind his curtain. He is not the same as Bokuto, or Kuroo, or Kenma, or Iwaizumi, or even Kaori - he is not an innocent AWOL who has done nothing to deserve being unwound. His actions sent a staho full of unwound to their death. He beat Daishou for threatening him. He exposed his secret to the one person he cared about. He doomed a hundred kids just like him to unwinding. He sacrificed others so he could come out on top.

He glances toward his audience briefly, just quick enough so he can gauge their reactions. Kaori looks down at her knees. Bokuto, who was rocking throughout his entire story, sits still. His mouth hangs slightly open. Akaashi doesn’t want to meet his eyes.

Iwaizumi had said people could make up for their mistakes, but Akaashi still wasn’t sure he believed him. Especially not now, after being forced to remember what he’s done.

“With me out of the picture, the Producer must have decided to dissolve FUKURO4 entirely,” Akaashi says to Kaori. “He said he wouldn’t hurt you guys...but I never should have believed him.”

Kaori stares at the floor, struggling for words. "I - I had no idea.."

“Akaashi…” Bokuto reaches his arms out toward him, trying to give him a hug.

“No, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi pushes his arm away, refusing his hug. Akaashi doesn’t deserve his sympathy. And if he lets himself succumb to Bokuto’s comfort, he knows he won’t be able to come out of it.

A stray tear drips down his face. He lets it fall.

He hasn’t changed. He hasn’t changed at all. From the time he met Bokuto, he has been able to think of no one but himself. Putting Bokuto at risk by fake dating him, only so Akaashi could benefit from his company, imagining him as...as something more when he promised Bokuto business-like deal...how is he any different than he used to be? What has he done to make survival worth something? Akaashi is just as selfish as he always was.

“I’m so sorry,” Bokuto says. “That’s...what happened to you is really horrible. I can’t believe - that’s really messed up - ”

“We should tell someone,” Kaori says. “We should tell someone the truth about idol culture. How you were forced to do - ”

“Don’t you get it?!” Akaashi shouts, jumping to his feet. “ _I_ was the one who did all of that!”

Bokuto stands up with him. “But it wasn’t your f - ”

“Yes it was! _I_ made those decisions. It doesn’t matter what situation I was in because in the end, I made those choices...I shouldn’t have survived.”

He needs to put an end to this. If Iwaizumi was right, if Akaashi could ever make up for his past sins (which he still doubts), then this was where he needs to start.

“But - ”

“Stop. Just - stop.”

Akaashi forces himself to meet Bokuto’s eyes. They’re rimmed with red. Has he been crying for Akaashi? Ridiculous.

“I think we should head our separate ways.”

This is what’s best for Bokuto. Akaashi should never have allowed this to happen in the first place.

“What?” Bokuto blinks, brows knit in confusion. “Are we...fake breaking up?”

Akaashi clenches his jaw. The tremble in Bokuto’s voice hits him in the worst possible way. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me, Bokuto-san.” He clasps his hands behind his back so he doesn’t reach out and try and hold onto this one good thing. “But I didn’t deserve it.”

Bokuto’s mouth remains open. Akaashi can see the questions in his eyes, but he doesn’t give him time to ask them.

“I - I’m going to sleep,” Akaashi says. “I’ll asked to be moved when I wake up.”

He treks to the other end of the room and pulls out a sleeping bag. He curls up facing the wall.

He lets the tears fall freely, snot dribbling out his nose, silent and sticky.

He knew this day would come eventually. When he would have to tell Bokuto. He didn’t expect it so soon - he didn’t expect it like this.

From the other side of the room Akaashi hears Bokuto’s voice. “Akaashi - ”

_Don’t. Please don’t make this harder than it is._

“Let him be, Bokuto,” Kaori says. “He needs to rest. Maybe he’ll change his mind when he wakes him.”

“I just thought we were gonna stick together…”

If Akaashi could go back in time, there are so many things he would change. He wouldn’t have promised to stick with Bokuto. He wouldn’t have told Mika the truth about Daishou, he wouldn’t have beat Daishou up, he wouldn’t have let Daishou get in his head. He wouldn't have kept his mouth shut about the fate of Toyko Five. He wouldn’t have signed the Producer’s contract. He would have kept a closer eye on Sarukui.

But if there is anything Akaashi has learned from his mistakes, it’s this: there is no going back. There is only moving forward. He has to keep moving, but this time, he’s going to go down the right path. And if that path is in a different direction than Bokuto’s...so be it.

  


 

**xliii. Iwaizumi Hajime**

_(Oct. 20)_

 

Iwaizumi thought he was impatient in the woods. That couldn’t compare to how impatient he was in this goddamn cellar.

Tension has only built within him since entering this new safe house. He’s lost track of how many he’s gone through - five? Six? More? There was barely any space in this place. A cellar of some good Samaritan in some city between his hometown and the Court, surrounded by old tools and memorabilia - he felt like another knick-knack thrown in here to gather dust.

Here he was, in the middle of all the action, but he was _still_ barred from taking part in it. A war was being fought above him and Iwaizumi had to turn his head and pretend he couldn’t hear.

Obviously the two other unwinds in here didn’t care so much. Kunimi and Kindaichi relaxed against the walls of the mattress without a care in the word, watching Iwaizumi pace across the three meters of space.

“I can’t stand it anymore,” he mutters. “Waiting around, making others take care of us...it’s bullshit.”

Kunimi and Kindaichi look between each other nervously. Iwaizumi figures they must be new to this if they don’t feel the same way.

Iwaizumi sits down in front of them, causing Kindaichi to jump. “How long have you been in the safe house system?” he asks.

“Uh...this is our first one,” Kindaichi says. “I mean, my first one.”

“I take it it’s not yours?” Kunimi asks.

“No,” Iwaizumi says. He leans back on his hands and stares at the ceiling. “I’ve been shipped around like a package for more than a month. I hate it.”

Kindaichi scoffs. “Why are we even switching around? Wouldn’t that make it easier for the Juvey cops to find you?”

“It’s to confuse them, or whatever,” Iwaizumi explains. “So if they bust one safe house, they can’t figure out where the Court is.”

“The Court?”

“The place where we’re heading.”

“Oh.”

Iwaizumi respects the safe house system, and the Court. The Anti-Unwind rebels who make this possible are incredible, and Iwaizumi is grateful for their actions. But passively resisting is not enough - if they want to make a real difference, they need to take on the Juvies directly.

Iwaizumi recalls a conversation he had with the rebel who owned this cellar.

“Can I ask you some questions?”

“Sure? What do you want to know?”

“The Anti-Unwind rebellion...just what exactly do you guys do? Besides the safehouses.”

“Well, our biggest priority is keeping you guys safe. That’s where most of our resources go - getting you guys food, paying off drivers and such. We organize and lead protests. Try to recruit new members…and we’re trying to get some people elected.”

“So you’re telling me you’re doing _sit-ins_ while children are _dying_?”

“I wouldn’t put it like that - ”

“Doesn’t anyone have the guts to go head-to-head against the Juvies?”

“Well, there’s that one group near Mt. Taihaku that’s been infiltrating their camp. And there was a transport of unwinds that went wrong. No one knows how that happened, though.”

“Why can’t we do something like that?”

“It’s dangerous. You just need to focus on surviving for now.”

 _Bullshit_. He could do more than just survive. He lost an ounce of respect for this organization that passively hopes for AWOLs to fall into their hands, doing nothing to fix the real problem.

“Hey Iwaizumi,” Kunimi asks. “Why were you unwound?”

Kindaichi elbows him in the side.

“Ow.”

“Don’t ask him that, that’s - that’s rude,” Kindaichi hisses.

“It’s fine,” Iwaizumi says. “I’m a stork. My parents never wanted me in the first place, and they finally got fed up with me. Simple as that.”

Iwaizumi hasn’t thought about his parents in a long time. They’ve become part of the blurred crowd of people that make up “them” that opposes Iwaizumi’s “us.” His anger at them is just a part of his anger at the system.

(Perhaps he just imagines it that way so he doesn’t have to face the facts: the people who raised him for sixteen years didn’t give a shit about him. He excuses their actions as part of a larger problem so he doesn’t have to take it personally.)

Kindaichi and Kunimi exchange a look. “I’m a stork too, but...my parents would never do that to me,” Kindaichi says.

Iwaizumi raises an eyebrow. “Then why are you here?”

Kindaichi looks away. “That’s none of your business…”

Iwaizumi felt bad for him. Lots of AWOLs were in denial about what had happened to them. Especially new AWOLs whose wounds of betrayal were still fresh. “Hey,” Iwaizumi says, placing a hand on Kindaichi’s shoulder. “Whatever it is, it’s not your fault. They want you to think it’s your fault, but it’s not. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Kindaichi shrugs Iwaizumi’s hand off. “It’s not like that.” He gets up and knocks on the door to the cellar. Someone comes to the door, and ushers Kindaichi inside when he asks to use the bathroom.

Once Kindaichi’s gone, Kunimi says, “Sorry. He’s still sensitive about...all this.”

Iwaizumi sighs. “It’s fine. I probably pushed him too far.”

He gets up and continues pacing, too much energy for such a small space.

Iwaizumi knows exactly how Kindaichi feels. The moment of betrayal, being ripped away from everything you know, the powerless that has you tumbling in free fall, your fate resting in the controlling hands of gravity. It’s terrifying. Iwaizumi doesn’t want anyone else to ever feel like that.

Nearly half an hour passes, and Kindaichi hasn’t returned. Iwaizumi wonders what’s taking him so long. Suddenly, raised voices sound from above.

He looks to Kunimi. “Hey. What’s going on?”

Kunimi shrugs, but he looks just as curious as Iwaizumi.

The ground above them thunders; Iwaizumi can physically see the ceiling shake. Shouts are exchanged, and a crash sounds from above.

Iwaizumi rushes to the cellar door, pressing his ear against it.

_Bang, bang, bang, BANG -_

Iwaizumi flies away from the door as it’s yanked open.

A trio of Juvies storms into the room, tranq guns out.

In that moment, Iwaizumi is taken back to the day he was captured. The shock of seeing the two Juvey cops in his kitchen. Grabbing onto Oikawa’s hand to ground himself. Trying to run, only to be overwhelmed by a force of navy of red.

This time is different. This time, Oikawa isn’t here to hold onto.

This time, Iwaizumi’s ready.

“Hands on your heads!” the Juvey in front demands.

Iwaizumi backs into the room, bringing his hands up to his head, searching for something to use as a weapon. He spots a stray wrench. Slowly, he steps back, until the wrench is within his grasp.

In a flash, he grabs it, swinging it at a Juvey before she can fire her tranq gun. He smacks her head, knocking her down.

Another one comes at him, handcuffs held high. Iwaizumi dodges and kicks them down. He swings the wrench against their head to be sure to knock them out. He hears a crunch as the tool meets its target. They smack the ground with a bodily _thump_. Blood trickles down the side of their head.

Storks were often targets for bullying, and Iwaizumi had gotten into no shortage of scuffles. Oikawa didn’t know - if he had told him, Oikawa would’ve insisted on helping. But Iwaizumi had to prove his own strength to his bullies, or else they would never leave him alone.

Iwaizumi gulps, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. A few after-school fights was nothing compared to actual trained Juvey cops. He’d need to be careful.

Out of the corner of his eye he sees the third cop wrapping cuffs around Kunimi. Iwaizumi reaches down beside the cop he just knocked out and snatches the tranq gun out of their holster.

Hands shaking, he fires a shot at the cop on the other end of the room. The bullet goes astray, sinking into the plaster walls.

_Dammit!_

“Hey!” The Juvey looks up, drops the handcuffs, and reaches for their holster. “What are you - ”

Iwaizumi fires once more, missing again.  

God, if only he had Oikawa’s skills.

Iwaizumi doesn’t have time to wish for wishful thinking. He has to work with what he’s got.

He drops the gun to his side and runs up to the cop, shoving the gun against the cop’s shoulder and firing before the cop has time to react.

The cop slumps down and hits the ground.

Iwaizumi immediately drops the gun and grabs Kunimi’s shoulders. “Are you okay?” he asks, looking him in the eye.

Kunimi looks at Iwaizumi, the sleepy look from his face replaced by fear and shock. “Y-yeah…”

He reaches down and scoops the tranq gun off of the Juvey he just knocked out and the one he just dropped. He shoves on at Kunimi and holds the other up with two hands. He slinks towards the door, and peers around the corner. Once he’s sure it’s clear, he cocks his head, gesturing for Kunimi to follow. “C’mon. We have to get out of here.”

Kunimi nods and follows wordlessly.

Blood rushes through his system, igniting the fire the that’s been aching to burn since the day he’d tampered with the tranqs. He’s finally able to do something. He feels alive.

They find the bathroom. It’s empty.

“Shit,” Iwaizumi hisses, slamming the gun against the wall in anger. “They must have him already.”

“Hold it right there! Drop the gun!”

 _Fuck_.

Iwaizumi raises his hands, letting the gun go. It hits the floor with a thud. He can see Kunimi doing the same thing next to him.

Heart thundering in his chest, mind running on high, Iwaizumi struggles to keep a smile off his face. He’s not about the give up yet.

He hears the footsteps come up. In an instant, he kicks the gun he dropped back behind him.

He hears a crunch when the cop steps on it.

“What the - ”

Iwaizumi spins around and kicks the Juvey to the ground. A bullet whizzes past his ear. He drops to the ground, using the Juvey he kicked as a shield. He tries to fight back, but Iwaizumi’s strength overpowers him. Iwaizumi throws him at the other cop, and they both topple over.

He gives a silent thanks to all those awful morning workouts for the strength and reflexes he’s built up.

Before they have time to get their bearings, Iwaizumi yanks Kunimi’s hand and runs down the hallway. There’s got to be a back exit somewhere.

Where are all the rebels? Were they already caught? He can’t worry about it now - all he can do is try and escape, and take as many cops down with him as he does.

“Iwaizumi-san,” Kunimi says. “Where are we - ”

“We’re going to find a way out of this, and a back exit - ”

Iwaizumi’s yanked back as Kunimi comes to a halt. “We need to find Kindaichi first,” he demands.

Iwaizumi turns around. Kunimi’s mouth is set in a firm line. He doesn’t look like some whose mind will be changed.

Kunimi’s right. Wasn’t Iwaizumi the one who was talking about saving people just hours ago?

“Let’s look out the front.”

They turn around and head towards the front door, keeping low. “Look for something to use as a weapon,” Iwaizumi tells Kunimi. Iwaizumi peeks out a curtained window while Kunimi pulls out pots and pans and even a fire extinguisher. A squad of cop cars line the streets. A few of the rebels stand with their hands on a vehicle, hunching over while a cop yells at them. Kindaichi is nowhere to be seen. _Did they take him away already? Did he escape?_

Suddenly a squad of Juvies breaks off and heads toward the door -

“Shit - they’re sending people - hand me the fire extinguisher - !”

Iwaizumi snatches the red cylinder out of Kunimi’s hands and pulls the pin. Right as the Juvies run through the door, Iwaizumi clenches the trigger, coating them in white foam.

“Take two of those pans - go! Go!”

Still spraying, he ushers Kunimi down the hallway. He wants to go back for Kindaichi, but if they want to get out alive they they need to get out _now_.

They sprint to the back of the house, Iwaizumi taking one of the pans from Kunimi. Iwaizumi kicks open the door to the first exit they see, concealing himself behind the open door.

A flurry of tranq bullets flies through the open door, just as he predicted.

He hears footsteps coming from behind them - the Juvies from the front of the house.

They appear from around the corner. In the blink of an eye, they fall to the ground, hit by the bullets coming from the Juvies on guarding the back exit.

That’ll buy them some time. Smirking at their stroke of luck, Iwaizumi waits another second for the bullets to stop coming, assuming the Juvies are taking the time to reload. “Wait until I have their attention, then run like hell,” he tells Kunimi.

Hunching behind the frying pan, Iwaizumi storms out of the house, straight for the two cops waiting with guns ready.

A pattering of tranq bullets deflects off the surface. Apparently they don’t need to reload. Iwaizumi prays a stray tranq doesn’t hit him.

He rams into the first Juvey cop, knocking the gun out of his hand.

Immediately the other cop turns her gun on Iwaizumi. He grabs the Juvey cop he knocked over as a shield, but he’s nearly too late. A bullet whizzes past his ear.

_Shit._

Suddenly his head hits the ground - the cop he’d rammed into tackled him to the ground. _Shit, shit._ Iwaizumi struggles underneath him, flailing his limbs while the cop holds Iwaizumi down for his partner to shoot.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watches as Kunimi exits the building. When he sees Iwaizumi, he stands there, paralyzed.

The cops hadn’t noticed him yet. This is his chance. He can run, or he can help Iwaizumi.

He catches Kunimi’s eye. In that half second glance, he tries to convey everything. _Please._

Kunimi snaps out his trance. He creeps up behind the cop, raises the pan, and hits the Juvey on the shoulder. She crumples to the ground, clutching her shoulder and crying out in pain. Her partner’s lapse in attention at the sound of her cry is just what Iwaizumi needs. He knees the cop in the groin and pushes the man off of him. He pulls himself to his feet, and for good measure, gives him an extra kick.

There’s nothing else to do but run. He grabs Kunimi’s arm and pulls him away as they run down the back street. They made it, they really made it -

“Iwa - ”

That’s all the warning he gets before Kunimi drops to the ground, red flare of a tranq bullet poking out of the back of his thigh.

_Fuck._

Head still pounding from where he hit the ground, Iwaizumi hefts him onto his back.

He runs and he runs and he runs, not once looking back. Kunimi bumps up and down on his back, thighs digging painfully into his waist. With every labored breath he takes, his lungs burn. His legs are on fire and his arms feel like taffy, but Iwaizumi keeps going, fueled by pure adrenaline.

Once he no longer hears sirens or the pounding of feet, Iwaizumi slows down into a jog, coming to a stop in an alleyway behind a row of convenience shops. He collapses on the ground, nearly dropping Kunimi.

His adrenaline begins to wear off, and the rapid beating of his heart returns to a normal pace. But Iwaizumi’s still riding on that high.

His muscles ache and his sweat coats his whole body, but Iwaizumi burns with a satisfaction he’d only felt once before, when he busted into the chemical lab with Kuroo and Kenma. Fighting the Juvies was terrifying, but it felt good. Iwaizumi has been waiting for this moment for weeks. And man, was it worth it.

A bird broken free of its cage, Iwaizumi resolves to never hide behind bars again.

Blood trickling down the one cop’s chin. The crunch as another cop’s head slammed against the car. The memories disturb him as much as they delight him. Iwaizumi knows it’s wrong, but that didn’t matter, because he was victorious.

Mostly victorious. They had had to leave Kindaichi behind. Iwaizumi clenches his fist, angry that he didn’t do more. Could he have gotten all of them out safely? He’ll never know, now.

He glances at the boy next to him. He’s still passed out cold, but he’s here. Iwaizumi may not have saved Kindaichi, but he can still help Kunimi.

Once he’s had enough rest, and the sky has begun to grow dark, Iwaizumi lifts Kunimi up and continues down the alleyway, searching for a place to settle down for the night. Something about this place looks familiar - he’s sure he’s been in a safe house around here before.

He comes across a sketchy looking motel. He remembers reading in some book how the characters stayed a night in a motel when they were down on their luck by breaking into the window of an empty room. Iwaizumi hopes that will work.

Right as he’s figuring out which rooms are empty, Kunimi begins to stir.

Iwaizumi sets him down in the shadows outside the motel. “Hey. Welcome back to the world of the conscious.”

Kunimi groans, rubbing his head. “I don’t feel very welcome.”

Iwaizumi laughs. “I don’t think any of us do.”

He explains what happened with the Juvey cops.

“Why’d you come back for me?” Kunimi asks. “I weighed you down. Literally. You didn’t...you didn’t have to save me.”

Iwaizumi claps him on the back. “We AWOLs look out for each other.”

Kunimi stare at him for a moment, then lets out a huff of breath that might be a laugh. “I did a pretty bad job of looking out for Kindaichi...we should have gone back. We shouldn’t have left him.”

Guilt prickles in the back of his mind. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.”

“You did enough,” Kunimi says. “So what do we do from here?”

Iwaizumi looks up at the motel. “Find somewhere to sleep for tonight. Tomorrow I’ll find you a safe house - and then I’ll be on my way.”

Kunimi furrows his brows as Iwaizumi explains his plan to break into a motel room. Even though he doesn’t look to happy about it, he agrees to the plan. They wait until the light drains from the sky and the moon shows its face, a sliver of white in an otherwise black sky. It looks like the moon is smiling down on them.

They pick a room that looks empty, and sneak in through a blessedly open window. Immediately, they both flop onto the bed. Iwaizumi hadn’t realized how tired he was until now. He feels like he could lay on this bed for years, and still not be rested enough to stand on his feet again.

“Where are we going to find a safe house?” Kunimi asks after a moment, rolling over onto his back.

“There’s another one around here. I’m sure of it.”

“And you’re not coming with?”

Iwaizumi sighs.

The rebels aren’t doing enough. Today’s raid on their safe house showed that. Pulling AWOLs into the shadows and shuttling them around, just waiting for the Juvies to pounce on them, unable to fight back.

They need to act. To show that unwinds refuse to take this treatment sitting down. That’s the only way to win this war.

“Iwaizumi-san?”

“Forget this safe house shit. I’m not going to the fucking Court. I’m better off doing something to help, something that will actually make a difference. I’ll do whatever it takes to put a stop to this.”

The Court may be the safest place to be, but Iwaizumi can’t go there anymore. The Court would just be another prison, another safe house for him to waste away in while the battle raged outside his cell. He was capable of so much more. He could make a difference.

He refuses to be passive for another second. He saw what his own abilities could do today - and that was just him and Kunimi. Imagine what they could do with a force of unwinds - a hundred - a thousand.

“Isn’t it smarter to stay in the safehouses?” Kunimi asks skeptically. “It must be safer.”

A memory resurfaces, along with two faces Iwaizumi would never forget.

_“This is too great of an opportunity,” Kuroo stressed. “Yeah it’s dangerous, but we’re AWOLs - just living is dangerous for us. We need to fight back.”_

Kuroo’s words ring true, but beneath them is a hint of guilt. Iwaizumi remembers his vow to find Kuroo and Kenma once he reached the Court. _Sorry, guys. But you’ll be better off this way._

“Sure, if I was trying to protect myself,” Iwaizumi says. “But this isn’t about me. I could wait around until I turn eighteen and become safe from being unwound. Or I can change things right now, and save people who would be unwound by the time I got old enough.”

Kunimi stares at him. His gaze reminds Iwaizumi of Kenma - he has the kind of eyes that stare straight into your soul. “That’s...brave,” he finally says.

“It’s not about being brave,” Iwaizumi says. “It’s about getting back at them.”

With that final thought, Iwaizumi turns over and settles into the pillow.

He still misses his old life. He still misses Oikawa. But his victory today proves he can succeed without him. He’s going to fight in this war, and when they win, he’s going to come home to Oikawa and prove to him he’s wrong.

He looks to the boy next to him, already asleep, and thinks of the boy they left behind. Iwaizumi wouldn’t forget Kindaichi - no, with each action against the Juvies, Iwaizumi would avenge him. He doesn’t know how he’ll do it, but he vows to avenge him, and every other AWOL who’s had to suffer like them in this world that works against them.

Iwaizumi closes his eyes, sinking into the comfortable bed.

_Onto a new chapter._

  


 

**xliv. Tsukishima Kei**

_(Oct. 20)_

 

“So...this is it?”

“It must be.”

The stadium is massive. There’s no other word for it, just...really, really massive.

At least ten stories tall, it arcs above their heads in a crescent shape. It’s as wide as a forest, taking over thousands of meters of space in the middle of this mountain range. Blank white walls climb up vertically, so high Tsukishima has to lean his head all the way back just to see the top. A ten foot gap of cement lies between where they stand at the treeline and the massive chrome double doors in front of them that seem to call them forward.  

After so many days of walking, after camping in the woods, after visiting the memoratorium, finding Karasuno, running into the Juvey cop, catching sight of the pro-unwinding parade. After Yamaguchi’s slow but steady transition of thoughts. After everything, they had finally arrived at the Court.

“Should we...knock?” Yamaguchi asks.

Tsukishima shrugs.

They step up in front of the doors. Yamaguchi reaches for his hand. “You’re not leaving yet, right?”

Of course Yamaguchi would remind him that this was supposed to be the end. How irritating.

He supposes he can put off saying goodbye a little longer.  

“...I’ll walk you inside.”

Before they can take a single step toward the entrance, the door flies open. An adult man with a long hair and a shitty bleach job yells at them frantically, “What are you doing out here?! Get your asses inside!”

The man yanks them by the wrists and pulls them inside. The doors slam closed behind them.

It turns out the Court is exactly that - a court. An enormous volleyball court swimming with hundreds of teenagers. One group plays a game on center court, lofting a worn volleyball around carelessly. A few others cheer from the sides, and even more dot the bleachers. Four thick pillars sprout from the middle of the floor. Tsukki follows them up to the ceiling that hovers only several meters above them, cutting off the rest of the seats of what should be a fifty meter tall building - he guesses there are several floors above them, held up by pillars like this one.

“Dammit, what were you doing out there? Are you nuts?”

Tsukishima turns back to the man that pulled them inside. Slowly, the man’s hands fall from his face. His eyebrows knit in confusion. “Wait...your faces don’t look familiar.”

Yamaguchi smiles sheepishly. “W-we just got here…”

The man looks at them incredulously. “Oh. Wow, my bad. You guys came here on foot?”

They both nod.

“Damn. That’s commitment. Sorry for that introduction, but keeping this place a secret is hard.”

The man steps back, hands on his hips.

“My name’s Ukai, and let me be the first to welcome you to the Court.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Concept: unbeknownst to most, oikawa is 90% of iwaizumi’s impulse control
> 
> an explanation for akaashi’s backstory: in this universe, i imagine there could be a blend of fujoshi and idol culture. idol culture tends to target otakus in order to profit, so couldn’t you do the same thing with fujoshis? (but like. I’m not advocating for that AT ALL. fetishizing mlm is gross) throw unwinding into the mix, and you have a really shitty industry
> 
> aaaaaaaand that's a wrap! im gonna call this the halfway point. i know i said a few chapters ago that that would be the halfway point, but i lied. i still have a lot in store *rubs hands together menacingly*


	15. Rebirth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa Tooru rubs his face along book spines. Iwaizumi Hajime isn’t really cut out to be a thief. Tsukishima Kei is your "friendly" neighborhood IT guy. Tanaka Saeko is a mother hen. Bokuto Koutarou finds his lost cats.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter:  
> me: *cries over making akaashi’s backstory perfect*  
> ya’ll: WHAT HAPPENED TO KINDAICHI
> 
> lmaooooo its cool though im glad youre all concerned about seijoh's second youngest Bitter Boy. how mad would yall be if i never brought him back? (´｡• ◡ •｡`) ♡
> 
> hope yall are hype for the second arc bc i certainly am
> 
> (also....this is over 100k what the fuck. what the...fuck??? i know it happened last chapter but holy shit. that's So Many words. fuck)

**xlv. Oikawa Tooru**

_(Oct. 25)_

 

_Oikawa Tooru is who he is today because of unwinding. Because of the surgeons and the Juvey Cops who kept the system working. Being part of that system is the only way he knows how to pay them back._

 

_Would he have done it if not for some petty feud? No. He wouldn’t have. He would have seen the boy’s face and let him go. This was his own emotions taking control, it was envy guiding his hand that pulled the trigger._

_But that was what he was supposed to do. This is what he trained for. He did the right thing, so why did he feel so guilty?_

 

_Unwinding is supposed to be for the bad kids, the kids that don’t follow the rules and don’t do well in school and would only be a burden to society._

 

_“Oh my gosh - Tooru! Tooru the alarm! Tooru - !”_

_He rounds the stairs at a slight jog and runs into her. “Mom, I don’t know what happened - it’s not a false alarm, the heater, it just - ”_

_His mom pushes him out the door, grappling for her phone. “I know, I smelled the smoke - just go outside Tooru! Go outside!”_

_...The blood drains out of his mother’s face and she begins to shake. Her hands clench his arm in a iron grip. Oikawa knows she fears fire more than anything else. Guilt crushes him in an overwhelming wave. He did this to her. He knew what he was doing when he concocted this plan, and he thought he was prepared to feel bad, but putting it in action caused more of a reaction on his part than he anticipated._

 

_Greatness can only be achieved through suffering._

 

_“Look. You wouldn’t get it, Mr. Top-of-Hand-to-Hand. I need to beat that Tobio-chan. I need to be the best. Not all of us can be geniuses - to be the best, I need extra practice.”_

_He sees Ushijima glance at his hands. Blood drips down in a line past his wrist. Oikawa self-consciously tucks his arms against his side._

_Finally, Ushijima says, “You’ll make an excellent Juvey Cop one day, Oikawa.”_

 

_Sitting in the cell, alone, is the girl from earlier, the one he pinned as rebellious. Only now, she doesn’t look so rebellious. Tear streaks line her flushed cheeks, and her eyes are rimmed with red. She’s chewed her lip raw, and he can hear her sniffling from here. The taste of salt floods his mouth. Because now he understands why she looked tense; and it wasn’t because she was rebellious. It was because she was afraid._

 

_“How can I trust you’re telling the truth?” Suga asks._

_“You can’t. But it doesn’t matter, because I have changed, whether you believe me or not,” Oikawa asserts. “I don’t want to believe unwinding is bad, but I...was lied to. We were all lied to.”_

_Suga crosses his arms. “Some of us knew better than to believe those lies.”_

 

_A microtron flashes an ad proclaiming, “Sometimes the sum of the parts is greater than the whole!”_

_Oikawa always thought that tagline captured the beauty of unwinding perfectly._

 

_Oikawa raises the tranq gun, pointing it at the boy’s thigh. The boy gasps._

_His hands puts his hands out in surrender, but they’re shaking. “P-p-please,” he warbles._

_That single word strikes down any semblance of composure he had. Now he’s crying, too. The fear stabs at his chest and clenches his throat, but his hand moves of its own accord._

_He pulls the trigger._

 

_“...’s not like I’m proud of it.”_

_Suga’s brows raise in surprise. “I didn’t say you were,” he says._

_Oikawa scoffs. “Maybe not, but you thought it. That’s what To - Kageyama thinks, right? Well, I’m not proud. I should be. But I’m not. That’s why I quit Juvey camp - I wasn’t proud when I should have been.”_

 

_“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa shouts. There are tears in his eyes now, blurring his vision. “Hajime...!”_

_“Tooru!” Iwaizumi yells back, struggling against the men trying to shove him in the car, “I’m going to get out of here - and I’m gonna find you - wait for me!”_

 

“...kawa. Oikawa. Wake up.”

Oikawa blinks his eyes open. His first thought is that the blob in front him has very messy hair. His second thought is that he feels a pressure against his cheek. He gets up. Immediately, pain pinches his neck. He’d fallen asleep sitting up, leaning against a shelf of books as a pillow.

Rubbing his cheek angrily, Oikawa agonizes over letting himself fall asleep. He can feel imprints of book spines imprinted across his face. Now he has weird red marks and the other AWOLs will judge him.

But the one who woke him - he said his name was Kuroo - doesn’t spare him a second glance. He holds a package of milk bread, golden eyes wide. “Do you want some breakfast?” he asks.

Oikawa sighs, dropping his hand from his cheek and snatches the package. “Sure. Thanks,” he says, ignoring how hoarse his voice sounds in favor of stuffing the bread in his mouth.

For nearly two weeks, Oikawa has posed as an AWOL in this safehouse system. Leaving his uniform and (to his disdain) computer in the hands of Karasuno, he came to this safe house - a library, of all things - with only a toothbrush and the clothes on his back to his name.

Just four months ago Oikawa was training to become a Juvey cop. And now he was here.

His other life feels like a dream. Oikawa Tooru, the volleyball captain, the charming flirt, the pro-unwind advocate, the protégé shooter, the Juvey candidate. Identities he stripped off one by one, like peeling off sweaty clothes at the end of a long day. He feels naked and vulnerable without them, but also lighter. More free.

He’s felt different ever since he left Karasuno. The turmoil making a storm in his gut has silenced into an eerie calm, and the scars that opened have healed up again. They still make marks in his skin but Oikawa can trace his fingers over them without pain shooting up his side. He never would have imagined talking to Kageyama would put his at ease, but he can’t deny the relief that flooded when he saw Kageyama before he left for the safe house.

He remembers one of the training days of Juvey camp was entirely dedicated to safe houses. How to find these illegal rings where AWOLs were kept like animals, how to take them down, how those that ran safe houses and defied the law profited off of treating AWOLs like cattle. This time, he’s not surprised to find what he thought he knew to completely wrong. The image he got from those lectures wasn’t like the real things at all. The rebel works were kind, if cautious. They fed them and kept them clean and housed them in humane, if cramped, conditions. He’s still irritated about being stuck in another small space right after coming of the Karasuno’s closet, but at least there’s a bit more space. He’s free to roam the stock room of this library, where the old books are stored, and run his hands along the spines as he walks among the shelves, like he had before he unwittingly fell asleep. And there are other people to keep him company.

The other unwinds are nothing like he was told they would be either. They’re just kids - like Iwaizumi, and Kageyama, and the Karasuno kids, and those two boys he met at the Juvey station weeks ago.

He still can’t wrap his head around how the system came to this. A part of him wants to delve into the history books to find the exact reasons how unwinding came to be, and the other part never wants to think about it again. Each desire fights for dominance, leaving him with a constant headache.  

Oikawa picks at his milk bread in silence, watching Kuroo eat his. He sits across from Oikawa, leaning against the shelf. Kuroo looked the part of an AWOL more than most of the others Oikawa had met, yet behind his mischievous grin, Oikawa sensed an annoyingly kind spirit.

Not to mention other one, Kenma. These two unwinds Oikawa is housed with this time are a little different than the others - they know each other. It seems they’ve been friends for a long time. Oikawa has no idea how they’ve been able to stick together.

“Hey Kuroo. Why were you unwound?”

Kuroo looks up, his mouth full of milk bread. “Isn’t it a little early for the heavy stuff?” he mumbles, food still in his mouth.

Oikawa winces at Kuroo’s poor manners. “Does it matter? Time is an illusion,” he says.

Kuroo glares at him while his swallows his milk bread. “That’s fair,” he says. He plays with the wrapper in his lap, flattening it out across his knee for a good minute before speaking again.  

“Gleaning at the staho. Kenma and I didn’t make the mark,” he says simply.

“Gleaning?”

The wrapper falls from Kuroo’s hands. “You’re telling me you don’t know what a gleaning is?”

Before Oikawa can retort, a voice says, “At the state homes, when funding becomes tight, the administration will elect to unwind the least promising residents.” Kenma materializes from around the corner and comes to sit next to Kuroo. “It tends to happen once a month. They’re called gleanings.”

He watches Kenma pull out that game he hadn’t put down since Oikawa first met him two days ago. “Oh. I didn’t know,” Oikawa says.

Oikawa has battered himself down for the things he doesn’t know. But now, he resolves just to listen with an open ear. Gather what information he can, and make sense of it later. He tries to tell himself it’s not his fault. What he’s been feed as truth his whole life - how was he supposed to know they were lies?

“What about you?” Kuroo asks. “I’m pretty good at guessing people’s backstories, but I can’t place you.”

“I was a stork,” Oikawa says. “My parents never cared much for me. When they had a debt to pay, they signed the order. So here I am.” Careful not to blow his cover, Oikawa decided to use Iwaizumi’s story as his own.

Oikawa wonders where Iwaizumi’s parents are now. If Iwaizumi was never unwound, then they never got the money. He hopes they had suffered whatever fate they’d been trying to avoid.

“Yeesh. That’s rough,” Kuroo says. “But I know what it’s like to have no one on your side but yourself.”

Kenma pokes his arm. “Hey.”

“And your friends, of course.”

“Yeah...I bet you do.” Oikawa has had a loving family all his life. Now he feels guilty for it. And guilty for feeling guilty. Was that the trade off for living in ignorance?

Oikawa had started this journey with an intent to fix the system. But now he debates if this is a system that can be fixed.

Kuroo leans over Kenma, perching his chin on the other boy’s shoulder.

“What are you doing?” Kenma asks.

“Checking on your progress.”

Kenma huffs. “Slow. Thanks to that Shiratorizawa guy.”

Kuroo lets out a laugh. “I still can’t believe he played your game before giving it back to you.”

Kenma doesn’t seem to find it funny. He frowns deeper at his device. “He set me back four levels,” he mumbles.

Oikawa blinks, slowly processing what had been said. “Wait...did you say Shiratorizawa?”

Kuroo perks up. “You know them?”

“Yeah. They...they helped me escape,” Oikawa says, recalling what Ushijima told him about Iwaizumi.

“Oh shit, that’s cool. They were at our last safe house.”

“I don’t like them,” Kenma says, glaring at the game.

Kuroo shrugs. “I think they’re pretty cool. Having the guts to go against the system at our age...if I wasn’t AWOL, I would definitely be helping them.”

A hint of guilt causes him to wince.

_“You should have become a Juvey-cop. Then you could have saved him.”_

Oikawa could have been helping them, right now. He was one of the privileged people who could have done what Kuroo and the other AWOLs couldn’t. If he had stuck with Juvey training - if he had realized the true nature of unwinding.

Maybe, when all this is over, he still could.

“Well you _are_ an AWOL,” Kenma says. “And you already get into enough trouble as it is.”

Oikawa raises an eyebrow, glad that Kenma had opened the doors for a change of topic. “Is that so, Kuroo-chan?”

Kuroo shrugs, smirking wide. “I can’t deny my nature.”

It sounds like something Oikawa would say to Iwaizumi. “I bet it’s nothing compared to the trouble I’ve gotten in,” Oikawa purrs. “Have you ever infiltrated the unwind database?”

Both Kuroo and Kenma perk up at that.

“No way,” they say in unison.

Oikawa preens, and tells them about the time he snuck into the Juvey station, way back when he started searching for Iwaizumi, changing a few details to fit his current narrative. When he finishes, he gives Kuroo an innocent grin. “Beat that,” he challenges.

Kuroo leans back and smirks. He holds up his hand and starts counting down on his fingers. “Well, there was the time with the safe house - ”

“It wasn’t a safe house,” Kenma interjects.

“ - it was too a safe house, that’s what makes it crazy. And don’t even get me started on everything that went on at the staho.”

“And the tranqs.”

“I was getting to that, Kenma. How could I forget about the tranqs?” Kuroo turns to Oikawa with a glint of mischief in his eyes. “A few safe houses ago, we were in a chemical lab. A lab where they made tranq bullets.”

Oikawa can already see where this is going - Kuroo did mention his specialty was chemistry. He leans forward in anticipation. “Don’t tell me you messed with the bullets.”

Kuroo’s grin widens. “We messed with the bullets.”

“Kuroo-san. That’s dangerous,” Oikawa mockingly accuses.

Kuroo shrugs. “So is living.”

Oikawa considers that. “...just tell me the story.”

Kuroo rubs his hands together and places them on his knees, leaning forward to grab Oikawa’s attention. “So me and Kenma and this other guy Iwaizumi - ”

Oikawa’s senses shut down the moment the name passes Kuroo’s lips.

_Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi._

A rational part of him whispers that it might not be the same Iwaizumi, but it’s drowned out by hope.

Oikawa leaps at Kuroo, nearly knocking their heads together as he grasps his shoulders. “Did you - did you just say Iwaizumi?”

Kuroo’s expression is a combination of confused and scared. “Uh, yes?”

“Did he have spiky hedgehog hair?” Oikawa demands. “And muscles like a god?”

“I guess?”

“Holy shit.”

Oikawa releases Kuroo and falls back on his heels.

It was him. It was really him. He’s known about Iwaizumi’s whereabouts for a while now, but only in the vaguest sense. But this - this is the most proof he has had yet that Iwaizumi’s still out there, alive and whole, going to the same place Oikawa is. All this time grasping at the smoke trail Iwaizumi left behind, and finally, Oikawa has something to hold onto.

Kuroo smooths down his shirt, and chuckles. “I take it you know him?”

Oikawa nods. “He’s my b - my friend.”

He doesn’t know how much Iwaizumi told these guys about himself. If Oikawa claimed to be his boyfriend, and Iwaizumi had mentioned his boyfriend was pro-unwind to them, Kuroo and Kenma would see through him in a second. Telling them he was Iwaizumi’s friend was easier.

“Iwa-chan, he - he’s the one who I was trying to save when I broke into the Unwind Database…” Oikawa feels his eyes start to water. He hates crying in front of people, and tries to hold it back. “I...I haven’t seen Iwa-chan in a long time...I didn’t know if he was safe…”

Kuroo places a reassuring hand on his knee. “He looked like he was doing pretty well when we saw him. I think he’s fine. Right Kenma?”

Kenma nods. “You’ll probably get to see him soon, too. We’re all heading for the same destination, so…”

Tears start falling in earnest. He tucks his head between his knees, failing to hold back sobs. A reassuring hand pats his back as he lets it out. An emotional build-up that had intensified within him since being captured by Karasuno collapses, letting his emotions drain out. His body wracks with sobs, and he’s embarrassed to be falling apart in front of these two strangers, but this release feels so good, and Oikawa can’t make himself stop.

Eventually, when his sobs die down, Kuroo asks him, “Do you want to hear the rest of the tranq gun story?”

Oikawa nods, wiping the last tears from his eyes. “Y-yeah…”

Oikawa lets himself get absorbed in Kuroo’s story, until he’s no longer crying, and hope swells in his chest. Iwaizumi was whole, he was fighting back, and he didn’t hate Oikawa.

For now, he could concentrate on one goal: getting Iwaizumi back. And even though his journey to get his boyfriend back hadn’t gone as expected, he was still making progress. He was going in the right direction, in more ways than one.

And once he got to the Court, he could finally be with Iwaizumi again.

 

 

**xlvi. Iwaizumi Hajime**

_(Oct. 29)_

 

Since his decision to abandon the Court, Iwaizumi learned that fighting back was harder than he anticipated.

For one, without the safe houses to rely on, he had to find his own food, toiletries, shelter, and all sorts of stuff Iwaizumi didn’t have to think much about before. He was so preoccupied with trying to stay alive that any thoughts of making a difference had to be put aside.

Iwaizumi gained a new respect for AWOLs on the run. How could they do this for years on end? Barely a week had gone by, and Iwaizumi was almost ready to go back to the safe houses.

Driven by hunger, he walks into a convenience store in some town he doesn’t know the name of, nose down. Iwaizumi strolls around the shop, stopping at an empty aisle. He checks to make sure it’s completely empty, then starts stuffing his pockets with the snacks at line of the shelves.

“Hey.”

Iwaizumi jumps, dropping a handful of bags. Plastic crackles at it hits the ground. He whips around and sees another boy standing in the aisle - Iwaizumi hadn’t even noticed him approaching.

He can’t be much younger than Iwaizumi. With his buzzed hairstyle and casual garb, he looks rather nondescript. Iwaizumi holds his breath - does he work here? Is he going to report him?

The boy simply smiles at him. He bends down to pick up the bags Iwaizumi dropped and stacks them back on the shelf.

“It’s okay,” he says. “I’m not going to tell.”

Iwaizumi doesn’t know whether to believe him or not, but there’s something about this boy that makes Iwaizumi immediately want to trust him, so he decides to play along for now. He bends down and picks up the rest of the bags.

“Thanks,” Iwaizumi says.

The boy shoots him another smile. “If you’re really down on your luck, go to the house atop the hill overlooking town. The people there will give you a nice meal, and a bed to sleep in, no questions asked.”

Iwaizumi just looks at him. Something about the way he said that reminded him of the two Juvey cops that helped him escape the very day he’d been taken, the ones who helped him escape through the port-a-potty. Perhaps this boy had the same earnest intentions.

The boy looks at his stuffed pockets. Fighting a blush, Iwaizumi slowly takes the bags out of his pocket and back on the shelf. The boy nods in approval. “No need for those. The people at the house will take care of you,” he says with a wink.

“I…”

Before he can form a sentence, the boy’s walking away, waving a hand to him. “Have a good day!”

Iwaizumi’s left in the aisle alone, with the vague sense that he had only imagined what had just happened. It was a strange encounter, but not the strangest thing that’s happened to him since he went AWOL.

After a few moments of deliberating, Iwaizumi heads out of the store, pockets empty.

_Time for a hike._

 

The house isn’t hard to find. It’s on the edge of town, and a wide dirt path leads from the main road a little ways off into the woods, curving up a small incline that could barely qualify as a hill.

Barely a minute along the path, Iwaizumi notices the first grave. A large, rectangular grey stone erected not a meter off of the pathway. The sun’s rays shine through the branches from the trees above him onto the grave, giving the rock a soft muted glow, like an over-doctored camera filter. With its sharp corners and bright red characters splayed proudly across the surface, it looks new, standing out against the old cypresses and dirty undergrowth. Odd, seeing a grave all by itself. He looks around for another, and sure enough, further up the path, he sees three other graves.

Iwaizumi’s stomach rumbles. He’s a little creeped out, but Iwaizumi really wants that food at the end of the yellow brick road.

A little more wary than before, Iwaizumi continues on, passing the three graves ahead. The closer he gets to the house, the more graves appear. They line the pathway randomly, sticking out like sore thumbs from the yellowed pines leaves blanketing the ground. He begins to notice smaller graves, granite plaques in the ground with a single name written on them. It’s strange to see such disorderly graves. Some look newer than others. A few have incense burning in front of them; there’s even one with a bouquet of flowers. All of the names are written in red.

This isn’t a cemetery. It’s a memoratorium.

Iwaizumi’s only exposure to the burial grounds of unwinds was from the media: reading about them in books or seeing them on TV. Even then, that was a rare occurrence.

He’s not sure what to make of the memoriums. He’d never truly thought about it before. But as he walks further down the path, and the volume of graves becomes denser, anger festers in Iwaizumi’s heart. All of these memoriums marked the life of a child, a child who became a sack of parts. To him, these graves aren’t a fond remembrance for a life, but a hit list. It makes him sick.

By the time he reaches the house, his hands are clenched in tight fists.

A low triangular roof hunkers over the squat house. Sliding doors of dark wood and light paper mark the entrance. It reminds Iwaizumi of the safe house where he met Bokuto and Akaashi so much that he almost thinks it’s the same one. But there’s one big difference: the dozens of memoriums surrounding this one.

Iwaizumi sees something out of the corner of his eye and turns his head toward the movement. There’s a kid sitting on top of one of the bigger memoriums to the left of the house, one knee hunched up to his chest, the other dangling off the edge. He’s dressed all in green. He stares at Iwaizumi, sharp eyes rimmed in black eyeliner piercing him like an arrow.

Iwaizumi holds his gaze firmly. “Excuse me, is this - ”

The kid hops off the memorium and trudges away toward the forest.

“Hey!” Iwaizumi calls after him. “Wait - ”

The door to the house slides open, and Iwaizumi turns back around. Another kid peeks out of the crack.

“Can I help you?” he asks.

Iwaizumi glances once more toward the forest, but the boy in green is long gone. _Weird. This whole place is weird._ Shaking his head, Iwaizumi hops up in front of sliding doors. A large brown eye stares at him expectantly.

“I was told to come here if I...if I need a meal,” Iwaizumi explains. “There’s no questions asked, right?”

The door slides all the way open, revealing a boy that looks about his age, though he’s slightly taller, with a head of fluffy brown hair. He had the bad kind of acne. Oikawa would probably ask him why he hadn’t gotten a skin graft to cover it up. Iwaizumi inwardly cringes at the thought.

“Who told you about this place?” he asks, hands pressed against either side of the doors, blocking him from entering.

“I don’t know, some guy?” Iwaizumi said. “He had a buzz cut? A little shorter than me - ”

“Oh hey, it’s you!”

Someone pops up under the first boy’s arm - it’s the kid from the store. He gives Iwaizumi a warm smile. “Glad you were able to find the place,” he says.

Iwaizumi glances between him and the other boy, who still eyes Iwaizumi suspiciously. “Yeah…”

Buzzcut boy pulls on the taller boy’s arm. “Don’t be a hardass, Yahaba, let him in.”

Yahaba gives Iwaizumi a once over. If he weren’t so scrawny, Iwaizumi might be intimidated. “What if he’s a spy for the Juvies?” Yahaba asks.

Buzzcut boy rolls his eyes. “I caught him earlier trying to steal food from a convenience store. Doesn’t sound Juvey-like to me.”

Iwaizumi cringes when Buzzcut boy reminds him what he’s had to do to get by. Fortunately, it seems to satisfy Yahaba. He slowly moves away from the door, making a space for Iwaizumi to step through. “Fine,” he says, turning his back to them and walking into the house.

“Sorry about him,” Buzzcut boy says. “He’s a little paranoid.”

Iwaizumi nods, eyeing Yahaba as he exits into another room. “I can see that.”

“Don’t be too hard on him. He means well, honestly.” Buzzcut boy offers his hand. “I’m Watari Shinji, by the way. Nice to meet you.”

“Iwaizumi Hajime,” he says, shaking Watari’s hand.

“You met Yahaba,” Watari says. “There’s also Irihata, who owns the house. You’ll probably meet him at dinner.”

Iwaizumi thinks about the kid out front. “Hey, there was a kid out there, by the house - ”

A head pops out from behind a door. “Was he wearing green?” Yahaba shouts.

“Yeah, and - ”

Yahaba sighs. “Was he scowling like he was taking a really big shit?”

“Uh. Sure?”

“That was Kyoutani,” Watari says. “Don’t worry, he’s welcome here.”

“We _tolerate_ him here,” Yahaba corrects. “Bastard comes here all the time. Don’t worry about him. He’s much more bark than bite.”

With that final comment, Yahaba disappears back behind the door.

“Sorry,” Watari says at a low whispers. “He’s not too fond of Kyoutani.”

“I can tell,” Iwaizumi whispers back.

He looks around the house. It’s strange; it seems like a normal house, with normal people in it. Yet there’s a sizable memoratorium surrounding it. Iwaizumi can’t make sense of it. “What is this place?” he asks.

“Hmm….it’s kind of hard to explain...I’ll just have Irihata tell you at dinner,” Watari says. “Which should be done in a few minutes, so would you like to wash up first?”

“Yes please!” Iwaizumi hasn’t had a shower in days, and sweat has started to form a second skin on him.

Watari shows him to the bathroom, where Iwaizumi spends a good ten minutes scrubbing himself down with the washcloth Watari gave him.

Feeling refreshed, Iwaizumi steps into the hall. He hears voices coming from somewhere inside the house, so he follows the noise. He passes a few bedrooms, and a wide space for the living room.

His eyes fall onto a shelf above the telescreen. There’s a small collection of photographs in frames. They look strange, not as bright as the usual screens of frames usually are, almost like they’re made of paper. Fascinated, Iwaizumi steps closer.

They _are_ made of paper, printed out and aged with time. Though they are poorer in quality, there’s something nostalgic about seeing the flat images in these intricate wooden and metal frames.

Most of the pictures are of a family. He notices a few reoccurring faces, of a particular woman and a smaller boy. Everyone is smiling in the pictures; even in a few serious family photos, their eyes are smiling.

His eyes gravitate to one image in particular, of an old man holding a baby in his arms. The baby is wrapped in a forest green blanket.

“Snooping around already?”

Iwaizumi jumps, nearly dropping the frame in his hand. An old man stands in the doorway, hands clasped behind his back. It’s the same man in the picture he’s holding. Iwaizumi prepares to apologize, but then the man starts to laugh.

“I’m just playing with you, my boy,” he says. “My name is Irihata Nobuteru. And who might I have the pleasure to be welcoming into my home?”

Iwaizumi bows deeply. “Iwaizumi Hajime, sir.”

Iwaizumi straightens up, and Irihata gently takes the frame from his hands. “This is my grandson,” he says, pointing to the baby in the picture. He looks at the picture for a moment, eyes blank. Iwaizumi can’t tell what he’s thinking.

“Watari said you were wondering what this place was.”

Iwaizumi nods.

Irihata sighs, deep and weathered. Iwaizumi almost expects dust to come out of his lips. “A long time ago, I was married, and my wife and I had a single daughter,” Irihata begins. “Her name is Ume. This is her.” He points to the woman who shows up in most of the photographs. “She was the best daughter anyone could ever ask for. So when she got into an accident, and it didn’t look like she would live…”

Iwaizumi knows where this was going.

“You have to understand, this was around the time unwinding was first arising. We saw an opportunity to save Ume...and we took it. It saved her life. We were grateful, and so was she. So when she had a child of her own, she decided to tithe him.”

Irihata stares at the frame with that blank look in his eye again. “I did not approve of my daughter’s choice to donate her child to the Parts Bank. By this time, unwinding had become a common part of society, and my wife and I saw the havoc it caused. I tried to convince her not to go through with it, but she was stuck in her choice. She insisted on giving back. Like she owed them something. I suppose that is our fault, in the end.

“I loved my grandson dearly, so when he was tithed, I didn’t want to forget about him. Since the government had outlawed graves for unwinds and tithes alike, I built him a different kind of tribute, something I’d heard about online. A memorium is not a grave, so it was allowed. Technicalities,” Irihata says with a wink.

“I placed my grandson’s memorium right outside this very house. People in the town took notice. Memoriums began to pop up next to his, as you can see. I began to take care of the memoriums, keeping them clean. And the rest is history.”

Irihata places the picture back on the shelf delicately. “That was fifteen years ago. My daughter has had three children, and she has tithed all of them. Her last one was young Yahaba’s friend. Isn’t that right, Yahaba?”

Yahaba hops into the doorway. Iwaizumi hadn’t even realized he was there. Yahaba rubs his neck awkwardly, looking at his feet, pretending like he wasn’t just listening in to their conversation.

“Er. Yes sir,” he says.

Irihata gives him a fond smile. “The Yahaba’s are family friends. When my third grandson was tithed, Yahaba came to me, seeking to do something more. It was he who suggested we do more than just take care of the memoriums - to actually help tithes and AWOLs who are trying to escape their destiny by offering them food and shelter. It’s not much, but I’m glad to be of some service to those of you on the run. Better to help you now while you’re whole than erect a grave when you’re gone.”

Iwaizumi bows. “I’m sure every one of those kids are grateful for what you do, sir. I know I am.”

When he rises, Irihata places a hand on his shoulder. “I’m very happy to hear that,” he tells him.

“Um. Dinner’s ready,” Yahaba says.

“Then let’s eat. I’m sure you’re starving, Iwaizumi-san,” Irihata says.

There’s just one thing missing. “What about your daughter?” Iwaizumi asks. “You still have a lot of pictures of her…”

“We have a bit of a rocky relationship,” Irihata admits. He runs a wrinkled hand along the shelf of pictures. “But I still love her.”

Iwaizumi’s feelings about the memoratorium are mixed after hearing Irihata’s story. He wants to hate it, and everything it stands for, but knowing how this place began, he can’t hate it entirely. Iwaizumi stuffs those feelings deep down in him, in the middle of his mess of confusing feelings, right between his confusion towards Oikawa and his anger at his parents.

He follows Irihata and Yahaba into the kitchen. Immediately, he’s hit by the most delicious smell. He looks to the table, where a wide array of bowls filled with colorful food sit waiting. And in the middle -

“Hope you like agedashi tofu,” Yahaba says.

Iwaizumi nods. He might as well be drooling from how good it smells.

He nearly trips running over to sit down at the table. They all serve themselves and say their thanks and dig into the meal.

After the meal, he’s offered a place to sleep, in one of the bedrooms. Iwaizumi gladly accepts.

Despite his exhaustion from his unusual day, Iwaizumi finds it difficult to fall asleep. His head swims with thoughts of Irihata and the memoriums that surround him just outside these walls. He thinks of Kunimi, hopefully resting in a safe house, and Kindaichi - whose fate still remains a mystery. Would Kindaichi get a memorium? Kunimi?

Would Iwaizumi get one?

He thinks of the lives lost, and the lives that can yet be saved. He thinks of his next move.

 

 

**xlvii. Tsukishima Kei**

_(Nov. 1)_

 

Tsukishima had stayed at the Court for thirteen days. Every single day, he told Yamaguchi he would leave tomorrow. He had yet to follow through with that claim.

Yamaguchi pressured him to leave, yet Tsukishima couldn’t bring himself to walk outside the safe walls of the Court. Something was keeping him here - he couldn’t place it, but there was something he needed to do before he left.  

But the longer he stays, the harder it will be to leave. He needs to go while he still has the drive. Or so he tells himself.

For now, he’s here.

Shortly after they first arrived at the Court nearly two weeks ago, Ukai had given them a tour. The Court was a huge stadium built as a practice gym for the 2020 Olympics. It had been abandoned as soon as the Olympics were over; the cost of maintaining the facility outweighed the profit. Ukai Ikkei, who owned the property, turned it into a warehouse for sports equipment, using drones to specialize in making quick deliveries. His grandson, Ukai Keishin, whom had greeted Tsukishima and Yamaguchi that first day, had inherited the property.

With access to such a big space, the younger Ukai started up what would become the Court. He wanted to aid AWOLs who were so often plucked off the streets. Starting off with only a dozen AWOLs, the Court had grown substantially over time, now housing hundreds of AWOLs. He’d give them a place to stay until they reached their eighteenth birthday, then gave them new IDs or sent them abroad to live out the rest of their lives.

Over the years, Ukai renovated the Court, adding several floors to make room for the growing number of AWOLs. Each of the eleven floors served a different purpose. The top floor was a garden full of GMO foods engineered to grow in the little light provided by the one-way glass ceiling. The floor underneath was the the boy’s quarters, and the floor underneath that, the girl’s. The bottom was for recreation, the second for lunchroom, the third, the kitchen, and each of the floors between was dedicated to the business: housing drones, sorting equipment, and so forth.

It turns out that illegally running a camp of hundred of teenagers wasn’t an easy job. Not to mention it was one that required a lot of money. Ukai promised a safe space for everyone, but they all had to earn their keep. Every resident was assigned a duty that kept the Court running. Most of the work consisted of running the warehouse business, looking after drones, taking orders and inventory checks. Others were assigned to help the Court itself function; working in the kitchens, maintaining gardens, keeping the bathrooms clean.

“It’s a sweatshop,” Tsukishima had commented when Ukai explained the system to them.

“It’s surviving,” Ukai had countered. “You can leave whenever you want. You know where the door is.”

Yamaguchi was assigned to the eleventh floor’s garden. Yamaguchi said he liked it. Tsukishima’s glad it wasn’t him. After trekking through the woods for a month, Tsukishima never wants to see a single plant ever again.

Because of Tsukishima’s technical knowledge, he was assigned to a job in the computer lab on the fourth floor as an IT guy. The only reason Tsukishima didn’t completely despise his job was because the alternatives sounded so much worse.

“Hellooo, earth to Tsukishima. Did you reboot the system yet?”

Tsukishima spins his chair to face the rebel worker. “Yes. Ten minutes ago. It’s working fine now.”

He doesn’t mind working with the computers. The work isn’t even hard. The problem is the people. Everyone who needs his help is an incompetent idiot. Tsukishima hates dealing with them.

“Cool, thanks,” the rebel says, patting his shoulder once before Tsukishima slips out of his reach. “Can you like...get out of my chair now?”

Tsukishima pulls himself out of the office chair and gestures to it. “It’s all yours.”

“This better work.”

“It’ll work.”

“Did you get rid of the virus?”

 _The only virus was your own stupidity._ “Sure. Can I go now?”

“Yeah yeah, thanks man.”

The computer lab is sectioned off from the rest of the fourth floor by a plaster wall. The technology here is a hodgepodge of mismatched equipment; everything from the latest holoscreens to the old desktop computers of the late 2010’s. Tsukishima hasn’t seen half the tech before, but it isn’t too difficult to figure it out. There’s always someone else who knew how to work the machines that he could ask for help.

In addition to the army of AWOLs, dozens of rebel volunteers - like the dumbass he just dealt with - rotate in and out of shifts, directing traffic around the Court and watching over the AWOLs as they perform their duties.

He glances at a clock on the wall. It’s just past seven in the evening - ten minutes past his shift. Yamaguchi would probably be waiting for him in the cafeteria.

 

 

He waits in line with Yamaguchi for a helping of ramen. They sit at the least crowded table in the cafeteria.

Yamaguchi digs into his meal with almost as much fervor as when he ate those fries at McDonalds. It’s a good sign Yamaguchi’s enjoying food like this again. Reassuring.

“I’m leaving tomorrow,” Tsukishima says.

“Oh,” Yamaguchi says, swirling noodles around his bowl. “Is that so?”

“You sound bitter.”

“I’m not bitter,” Yamaguchi says. “I’m just...forgive me if I don’t believe you.”

Tsukishima waits for him to look up from his bowl, but he doesn’t. Yamaguchi has a fair point; why should he believe him? But maybe it’s better this way; it’ll be easier to leave if Yamaguchi thinks it’s a joke.

“I shouldn’t have stayed this long,” Tsukishima says.

“Probably not.”

Tsukishima looks up at him, eyebrow raised. With a smile, Yamaguchi shrugs.

“I’m glad you did, though,” Yamaguchi says. “Stay. It’s made the transition easier.”

This is _not_ making things easier. “I thought you wanted me to leave.”

Yamaguchi sighs. “I don’t _want_ you to leave...I just think you should,” Yamaguchi says. He finally looks up at Tsukishima, eyebrows knit in confusion. “Why did you stay this long anyway…?”

_Because I’m selfish. And I don’t want to leave you. And there’s a meaning to something here._

“I’m not looking forward to facing my parents,” he says.

Yamaguchi giggles. “They’re going to be so pissed.”

“Yeah…”

Tsukishima has come up with a hundred hypotheses for what his parents had done in his absence, most vivid being that they’d signed his unwind order and hung it up next next to his brother’s.

“You’re really leaving?” Yamaguchi asks.

Tsukishima nods. Yamaguchi will be fine on his own. He’s safe here. He’ll make friends, he’ll learn about gardening, undo those years of tithing bullshit. This can be his home for the next four years.

Maybe Tsukishima won’t experience those years with him...but at least Yamaguchi will be alive and whole.

Yamaguchi grabs Tsukki’s hand where it rests on the table. “I don’t know when I’ll see you next, so there’s something I have to tell y...”

His face goes slack. He stares at a spot just above Tsukishima’s shoulder.

Tsukishima looks behind him, trying to figure out what Yamaguchi is looking at. All he sees are some rebel guards by the door switching out shifts. “What are you - ”

One of the guards looks in their direction. Tsukishima recognizes him instantly. For a moment, he wonders if he’s seeing a ghost.

Golden hair swept across his forehead. Brown eyes that mirror his own. A face Tsukishima recognizes better than his own.

He thinks of the red letters on the granite plaque spelling out this person’s name, hundreds of miles away.

“Kei?” Tsukishima Akiteru says.

 

 

**xlviii. Tanaka Saeko**

_(Nov. 2)_

 

The cool morning breeze chases Tanaka Saeko as she makes her way to the front entrance of Dreamworld. She passes the collapsing fake mountain known as the Tattered-horn, the intricate, decaying wooden roller coaster that towers above the whole park, and a ferris wheel whose bright red paint has faded to a rusty orange. Everything is still, everything is quiet, just like it always is. She walks down Main Street, down the middle of the cobbled walkway sandwiched by squat, colorful buildings that promise delightful sweets and a plethora of prizes. Her shoes clack against the cobblestone, the sound echoing loud and filling the silent space. At this time in the morning, while everyone’s still sleeping, and the sun hasn’t quite risen, the park has an eerie feeling to it. Even though Saeko has practically lived here for almost a year, it still gives her shivers. Saeko loves the thrill.

She walks through the front gateway where the sun bleached pink paint to white. She steps carefully under the fallen sign proclaiming ‘Dreamworld’ in blue puffy font that blocks the entrance.

Just like there are every morning, three vans are gathered outside of the rusting front entrance of the abandoned amusement park. A small crowd of teenagers meanders around the vans, looking at the park in awe.

Saeko smiles. She bets they’ve never seen anything like this before. Most people haven’t, and most never would. Abandoned buildings were common, abandoned amusement parks were not.

She climbs up the ‘Dreamworld’ sign and jumps onto the top of the entrance, feet planted wide and hands on her hips.

“Welcome, my chicks!” she shouts. A dozen pairs of curious eyes blink up towards her. “Welcome to Dreamworld! This is your last stop before your final destination!”

Silence. She immediately regrets her phrasing.

“...before you arrive at the Court!”

Cheers all around. _There we go!_

“My name is Tanaka Saeko. You can call me Saeko,” she declares. “And my word is law. Y’all are a handful for just one person, so you need to keep every one of your piggy toes in line. Or else I will WHOOP your ASSES into next week!”

Everyone straightens up.

“Yes, ma’am!” they shout in unison.

She already likes this group. “Good. Now…” She goes on to explain to them the rules.

Saeko didn’t want to run her safe house how all the others did. These teenagers needed to stay up and active. Being cooped up for days was downright unhealthy for both body and mind. This place allowed them to stretch their legs, explore, see the sun. All she had to do was offer the right incentive to the right people who didn’t mind turning their heads the other way. But there was still basic principles they had to follow to ensure they didn’t attract other unwanted attention. Saeko tucked her chicks under her wing. She would not make the same mistakes that led her to being here in the first place.

Saeko had loved her baby brother with all her heart. To see Ryuu taken away from her was devastating. At first she was angry at Ryuu for finding trouble again and again, but she couldn’t stay mad at him for long. So she became angry with herself for failing to protect him. Saeko used to complain about all the trouble he’d get into, but now she wonders if she did enough. If she had been a little more watchful, a little more firm, would Ryuu still be standing by her side today? She came to realize it wasn’t her fault, either: it was the unwinding institution that took him away from her.

How dare they dictate that Ryuu had no more room to grow. As a teenager, he was still learning, changing, but the state decided the cut his chances short. They bet that Ryuu would remain a troublemaker all his life, but Saeko knew her brother had a good heart. He could have become great, if only he’d had more time.

She imagined all the other big sisters who’s kid siblings were taken away from them. They must feel like failures, too. Useless.

Running a safehouse was the least she could do. Even if she couldn’t save her own baby brother, she could save all the other kids that came her way.

“...now that you know the rules, it’s time for a tour!” she announced, finishing her speech. She hops down onto the ground, and waves for the group to follow. “Let’s go, chicks!”

The group’s energy begins to fade as the tour goes on. The park isn’t gigantic, but it’s decently large. As time passes, the sun rises higher and beings to beat down on them. The other AWOLs already housed here begin to rise. They pop up out of brightly colored buildings and crawl out of indoor shooting rides. Some gather around Foodie’s Ramen Booth, where breakfast is beginning to be served. Saeko excuses her group to eat with them, and they rush towards the enticing smell of waffles.

One boy takes his time to join the others, dragging his feet like they’re tied to a ball and chain. Saeko eyes him curiously. He towers over the others, both in height and breadth. Saeko would guess he were a jock, if not for his strange black and white streaked hair that hangs into his eyes and the way he curls into himself.

There are always some stragglers in the group. Kid’s who’ve been through too much, who can’t handle the stress of losing everything and being shipped around for months. They close themselves off, never talk to anyone, spread a negative aura and weigh the group morale down. Though, “some” was an understatement - she was lucky if the majority weren’t like that.

That’s okay, though. Those were the kids who needed to most help. And Saeko was always ready to step in.

This kid seems more out of it than the others. She can’t tell if he’s daydreaming, or brooding, or just tired. But there’s definitely _something_ off with him.

She walks up and pats him on the shoulder. She has to stick her hand straight up to reach. “Hey. You okay, kid?” she asks.

He doesn’t pay her any attention at all, staring straight ahead with unfocused yellow eyes.

She waves a hand in front of him. “Hey. Anyone in there? You good?”

His eyes snap wide open and he jumps away from her.

“Oh! I didn’t see you I’m sorry I was just kind of lost in thought...did you ask me something? Sorry I didn’t hear you…” he bursts, rubbing his arm awkwardly.

“It’s okay,” she says with a smile. “I was just wondering if you were okay?”

The boy cocks his head. His eyes begin to glaze over. “Um…”

Saeko laughs. “What am I saying? Of course you’re not. No one here’s really, okay, are they?”

He forces a smile. “I - I guess not, huh?”

She gives him a pat on the back. “Well, it’s okay to not be okay. You’re doing just fine as you are. Just take care of yourself, yeah?”

Though his gaze falls back to the ground, he gives a slight nod.

“There’s breakfast at the booth over there. Get some rest, too, you hear?” she adds.

“Yeah...I will…” The boy wanders away, in the opposite direction of the booth. Saeko bites her lip. She considers calling out to him to turn him the right way, but thinks better of it. Maybe he just needs to be alone for awhile. She can respect that. But she resolves to keep an eye on him, just in case.

She walks over to the Foodie’s, ready to try her hand at engaging the rest of the new residents.

Her brother’s unwinding was the greatest turning point in Saeko’s life. Everything had changed the moment the judge announced the verdict in that cold courtroom. Though Saeko regrets to all heaven what happened, she’s grateful for the waking moment that led her to where she is today.

_Ryuu, I hope you can be as proud as me as I am of you._

 

 

**xlix. Bokuto Koutarou**

_(Nov. 2)_

 

Bokuto knew Akaashi would have to leave eventually, but it still hurt. Especially because he thought this time might be different.

_Fuck._

Akaashi had been gone by the morning after he told his story, giving Bokuto no chance to try and convince him not to leave. The suddenness of the goodbye left him feeling empty and unfulfilled and lonely.

Bokuto went over all the things he did wrong. He thought he received Akaashi’s story well enough - he made sure not to interrupt too much, and he tried his hardest to comfort him when it was over. It’s true his opinion of Akaashi had changed. He’d couldn’t just ignore the bad stuff Akaashi did - but he knows Akaashi didn’t do it because he was a bad person. He was forced into a corner. There was no good decision to make. Even if the decisions Akaashi did make were a little scary, Bokuto knows Akaashi has changed since then.  

Without Akaashi, the safe houses feel different. They feel less safe. He’s kept to himself the past few weeks, only speaking when he absolutely has to. He alternates between staying up all night and sleeping all day. He can’t remember the last time he ate. He knows he’s getting bad, but he doesn’t know how to stop it. He doesn’t have to motivation to stop it, even if he did. His thoughts keep circling back to Akaashi, like a song he can’t get out of his head. Distraction, Akaashi, distraction, Akaashi - Bokuto’s tired of the pattern, but he can’t seem to find a way out of it.

From the outside, he looks like a zombie. But his mind is a tsunami of thoughts and feelings. Thoughts pass through his head before they can fully form, every noise and every sight is a distraction. The way his shorts rub against his knees and the smell of his own sweat makes him want to scream. A single word from the others will send him over the edge. His senses are overwhelmed, only put down by the emotions that rain against the walls of his mind, floodings his head and spilling out his ears. Explosions of anger and smears of loneliness and splashes of sadness are colors mixing themselves together until they paint his thoughts a thick, pasty black.

 

The amusement park is different from the other safehouses. There’s at least twenty AWOLs here, instead of the usual three to five. Like the house in the woods, they’re free to roam around to a certain extent, as long as they don’t touch anything.

At the moment, Bokuto lies back on top of the entrance to the Tattered-worn, on the arch above the tracks where the carts come through. He’s never been to an amusement park before. He never had anyone to go with.

_Would Akaashi have gone with me?_

Bokuto daydreams about what could have been, if life had dealt them different cards of fate. They could have met in high school, just as two regular students. They could have played volleyball together. Bokuto would have asked Akaashi to be his setter, and Akaashi would set for him all day, and then Bokuto could surprise him with a trip to the park, and they would go on the ferris wheel and once they got to the very top Bokuto was ask him to be his boyfriend -

“Bokuto?! Is that you bro?”

Bokuto snaps out of his daydream. He rolls over and looks of the edge of the roof.

There are Kuroo and Kenma, exactly as he remembers them.

His heart races - he hasn’t felt this happy since - well, since he last was with Akaashi.

Bokuto climbs down off the arch and rushes toward them.

“Kuroo! Kenma!”

He envelops Kuroo in a tight hug, picking him up and swirling him around. He puts Kuroo down and almost does the same for Kenma, but he thinks better of it. Kenma wasn’t the hugging type - Bokuto remembers that much.

“We just got here this afternoon, how long have you been here?” Kuroo asks.

“I just got here yesterday!” Bokuto says.

Kuroo cocks his head. “Just you?”

“Where’s Akaashi?” Kenma asks.

 _Fuck._ “I - I - ”

After keeping his thoughts to himself for days, the dam breaks. Everything comes out in a flood.

“He - he left me. He broke up with me - or fake broke up with me, technically I guess.” Not even a minute passed and Bokuto was already being a burden to Kuroo and Kenma, but he can’t help himself. His mouth keeps moving. Why now? He was able to shut up for the last few weeks. “It was just a few weeks ago. Fifteen days to be exact. We were at a new safehouse and there was this girl there and her name was Kaori and Akaashi knew her from before because it turns out they were in the same idol group together, because Akaashi used to be an idol he used to play bass for the idol group FUKURO4, have you heard of them?”

Kuroo’s eyebrows rise straight up. “Yeah - ”

“I couldn’t believe it but then I was like, why is he here if he was an idol? And Kaori was thinking the same thing so Akaashi told us what happened and it was such a sad story, I was crying, I feel so bad for him because he went through so much. He used to be a staho kid like you guys expect he was in Tokyo Five, and that’s the staho that was turned into an unwinding facility - ”

“Oh shit.”

“ - and so the only way he could get out was the sign the deal with the Producer who made him an idol, but then it was still hard for him because he had this feud with another idol guy and he did some stuff to get him in trouble and the Producer sent him off to be unwound, and yeah the stuff he didn’t wasn’t great but he can’t blame himself for it because he was in a shitty situation. But after he told us he got all weird and closed off and he said he didn’t want to be fake boyfriends anymore because he doesn’t deserve me, which is just ridiculous because it’s _me_ who doesn’t deserve _him_ but that doesn’t even matter because I - I just wanted to _be_ there for him, I know he’s not a bad guy even if he thinks he is but that’s _bullshit!_ He helped those kids when we escaped the Juvey station, and he helped me by just being there...but now he’s gone and I d-don’t know what I did wrong.”

Bokuto stops to take a breath. Kuroo stares at him, eyes wide.

“I can’t believe I didn’t recognize him,” Kuroo says. He looks to Kenma, who doesn’t look nearly as surprised. “I’m not a huge fan, but Kenma…” Kuroo suddenly turns to his best friend. “Holy shit you knew, didn’t you?”

Kenma shrugs. Bokuto figures that’s a ‘yes.’

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Kuroo asks.

“It wasn’t my secret to tell,” Kenma says.

Kuroo folds his arms over the back of his head, and stares up at the sky. “What happened to him...that’s fucked up.”

Suddenly the weight of everything he had said hits him. Bokuto claps his hands over his mouth. “Oh shit - shit I shouldn’t have told you that, I don’t think Akaashi wanted anyone to know, this is probably why he didn’t want to tell me isn’t it - ”

Kuroo reaches out and puts his hand on Bokuto’s shoulder. “It’s okay, we’re not going to tell anyone.”

“I still shouldn’t have said that…It’s all my fault he left and now I’m - I’m fucking up again by telling you everything - ”

“Bokuto. Listen to me. It’s not your fault.”

Bokuto pauses, and looks up at Kuroo. The light in his eyes peaking out from his fringe is sincere. “Not...my fault?”

The words sound foreign in his mouth. It was _always_ his fault.

“This situation was out of your control,” Kuroo says. “You can’t blame yourself for what happened.”

“Out of my control…”

“Kuroo’s right,” Kenma says. “It’s not your fault. It’s not Akaashi’s fault either. He’s probably working through his feelings, same as you. That’s all.”

Kuroo pats his back. “He’ll realize what he’s missing.”

Bokuto beams. “You think so?”

“I do. But for now...you need to forgive yourself. It’s not you, Bokuto.”

He sighs, and leans into Kuroo’s side. His body feels warm where it meets the skin of Bokuto’s neck. Warm and safe. “You’re right...I still miss him, though.”

Kuroo wraps his arm hand Bokuto’s shoulder. “It’s good to see you, Bo.”

“It’s good to see you, too,” Kuroo says, hugging back. “Hey. We still have each other, right? And after this - it’s just the Court.”

_Yep. Just the Court._

For them, at least. Bokuto has no idea where Akaashi is now, or where he plans to go. Would Akaashi still go to the Court? Bokuto hopes it’s not to much to hope for.

More than anything else, Bokuto hopes he says safe, far away from the reaches of the Juvey cops. He hopes his promise to survive will keep him alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact:  
> \- the abandoned amusement park is based on Nara Dreamland https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nara_Dreamland  
> http://www.timetravelturtle.com/2013/04/nara-dreamland-abandoned-japan/
> 
> im gonna be working on by piece for the haiykuu big bang so updates might be...slower than usual...even though theyre already pretty slow...


	16. Reject

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iwaizumi Hajime starts a revolution. Akaashi Keiji is a night owl. Yamaguchi Tadashi is only a little bit of a fanboy, he promises. Yachi Hitoka nearly combusts when talking to a pretty girl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thing i should be doing: working on by hq big bang piece  
> thing i am not doing: that  
> thing i did instead: wrote the next chapter of this. oops 
> 
> also thank you all again for all your comments and kudos!!! i really cant tell you how much it means from me to hear your thoughts. enjoy this earlier than usual chapter~

**xlix. Iwaizumi Hajime**

_ (Nov. 3) _

 

Irihata welcomed Iwaizumi at his home for as long as he wanted, and Iwaizumi decided to take him up on that offer. He needs to lie low and relax while he formed his next move. 

As it was, Iwaizumi has spent most of the last few days alone. Yahaba and Watari still had school to go to, and Irihata had a class to teach and a team to coach. It’s a little lonely, like it had been when Iwaizumi was wandering around on his own for the past few weeks. 

Seeking some kind of stimulation, Iwaizumi leaves the house after breakfast and wanders around the memoratorium.

He wants to believe in the gentle purpose of the memoriums, but he can’t get past his anger for them having to exist in the first place. What did Irihata know? He might mean well, but he didn’t know what it was like. He was never an unwind, he could never understand how an unwind would feel having to see graves that aren’t even recognized as graves - society hated them enough that they refused to give them a proper burial. Each name he reads was a person whose opportunities were taken from them. Each name he reads fuels the embers of his hate. 

And then he comes across a name that lights a fire in him.

_ Kyoutani Kentarou. _

That was the name of the boy who loiters around the memoratorium, the one dressed in green he’d seen the first day. 

The moment he reads the name, he hears footsteps approaching from in front of him. Iwaizumi readies his fists. 

Someone steps out from behind a tree. Iwaizumi’s eyes widen in recognition. 

It’s him. The kid who’s name is on the memorium in front of him. 

“You’re still here,” Kyoutani says. He’s still wearing the same green robes and the scowl Yahaba likened to constipation. 

He can see why Yahaba would say that.

Iwaizumi immediately relaxes. “Yeah. I’m Iwaizumi. You’re Kyoutani, right?”

“What’s it to you?” Kyoutani barks. He crosses his arms in front of him, his unfriendly stance reminding Iwaizumi of a dog defending its territory. 

“Yahaba says you wander around here a lot.”

Kyoutani grunts. “That annoying pretty boy should mind his own business.” 

_ Pretty boy?  _

“And so should you.” 

Iwaizumi had known a few tithes. None of them were like Kyoutani. Firstly, he had never seen a tithe this old. Kyoutani had to be at least sixteen, maybe older. Most tithes were shipped off to harvest camp the moment they turned fourteen, so seeing an older tithe felt off, somehow, like seeing someone using an outdated computer amid this technological revolution. Secondly, he never expected a tithe to behave like this. The tithes Iwaizumi met were devout, impassioned by their cause. They were the best behaved, most agreeable people Iwaizumi had met. But Kyoutani was none of that. Iwaizumi doesn’t know what to make of him. 

Iwaizumi points to the grave in front of him, “That’s you, right?”

Kyoutani glares at him. Iwaizumi takes that as a yes. He doesn’t want to scare him off like he did last time, but Iwaizumi’s still curious. Besides, Kyoutani hasn’t left yet. Maybe Kyoutani’s lonely, too. 

“Why do you have a memorium if you’re...well, still here?” he asks. 

For a long moment, Kyoutani stares at the granite plaque in silence. Iwaizumi holds his breath, waiting for Kyoutani to reprimand him, or run away. 

“My parents put that there when I was born,” Kyoutani finally says.

“When you were born?” Iwaizumi thought memoriums were set up after unwinds were unwound. 

“Yeah,” Kyoutani says. He steps closer. Iwaizumi is careful not to move, as if he were a wild deer Iwaizumi was afraid to scare off. They both look at the memorium. Now that Iwaizumi looks closer, he can see this stone is slightly more weathered than some of the others. The red paint on the letter is much duller than the others Iwaizumi has seen. There are scuff marks on edges.

Kyoutani kicks the stone. Iwaizumi sees where the marks come from. 

“They used to take me to visit it every year, on my birthday,” Kyoutani says. “Remind me of what my purpose was.” 

Iwaizumi’s eyes widen. “That’s…fucked up.”

“Yeah. It fucking sucked.”

Irihata looked at the graves much differently than Kyoutani looked at his own. In Irihata’s gaze there was a fondness, but in Kyoutani’s, only anger. 

He may still be confused over Irihata’s feelings, but Kyoutani’s anger - now  _ that _ was something he could understand. 

“So what are you still doing here?” Iwaizumi asks. “This place must only bring you pain.”

“I have nowhere else to go,” Kyoutani says. And with that final thought, Kyoutani wanders off into the forest. 

Iwaizumi considers going after him, but decides against it. If Kyoutani wanted to stay and talk, he would. Iwaizumi will give him space after forcing him to relive bad memories. 

He takes one final look at Kyoutani’s memorium, and heads back to the house. 

 

That night, Kyoutani joins them for dinner.  Somehow, he ends up sitting next to Yahaba, which neither of them seem happy about. 

“You’re sitting too close.”

“Trust me, if I could sit any further, I would.”

“Unless you’re just trying to annoy me.”

“Tuck your elbows in, you’re hitting me.”

“Maybe I meant to do that.”

“Oh my  _ god _ , you’re so annoying.”

“Please excuse the bickering couple,” Watari says.

Immediately they stop arguing and simultaneously turn to Watari. 

“Hey - ”

“We’re not a couple - ”

Watari breaks into giggles. “I know, I know, I’m just teasing.” He picks at his ramen for a few moments before murmuring, “I know you’re not a couple...yet.”

Both of them slam their hands on the table, and then shout, together:

“Shut up!” 

Watari’s giggles come back at full force, and Iwaizumi can’t help but join in. Even Irihata laughs at Yahaba and Kyoutani’s reddened faces. This Kyoutani is nothing like the Kyoutani Iwaizumi had a heavy talk with in the memoratorium today. Though he’s no less angry, this Kyoutani isn’t dead-eyed and fearful, but lively and cocky.

Iwaizumi had been thinking about Kyoutani’s story all day. Kyoutani’s anger was contagious and Iwaizumi felt the anger and hate that fueled him this far simmer again in his gut. If it hadn’t been for Kyoutani’s parents, he wouldn’t be the empty shell Iwaizumi talked to in the memoratorium. He wouldn’t have to hide in a painful place just to keep breathing from his own lungs. 

When they’re halfway through their meal, Irihata stands up. “Alright boys, I’m going to have to wrap up early. Staff meeting.”

Iwaizumi frowns. “Staff meeting?”

“That’s code for he’s going drinking with his buddies,” Yahaba says.

“Oh.” 

Irihata winks. He picks up his dishes to bring to the kitchen, and gives Kyoutani a pat on the shoulder. 

“You know you’re always welcome here for a meal, Kyoutani,” Irihata says.

Kyoutani just grunts in response. Iwaizumi notes that Yahaba rolls his eyes at this. He guesses this isn’t the first time Irihata offered.

“Alright, I’m off. Please clean up, boys.”

“Yes, sir!”

Iwaizumi guessed with the head of the house gone, the atmosphere would become a lot sillier. But instead, everyone quiets down. They eat their ramen in silence.

“So...Iwaizumi,” Watari asks. “How long have you been on the run?”

Iwaizumi was expecting this line of inquiry, but the question surprises him anyway. Maybe because he hasn’t thought much about it himself. “What day is it?”

“November...third, I think?”

_ Shit, it’s already November? _ “I guess that’s...six weeks, about?” Even as he calculates it, Iwaizumi can’t believe it. Only six weeks? His world has been turned upside down for less than two months? He feels like he spent an eternity traveling along a conveyer belt of safe houses. “It feels like longer.” 

“Only six weeks, huh?” Kyoutani says, leaning back in his chair. Yahaba smacks his arm. “Hey!”

“Don’t be rude,” Yahaba hisses. 

“No, it’s fine,” Iwaizumi says. “I know I haven’t been through as much as you. It’s been tough...but I can’t imagine having to do this for what, two years? You must be pretty strong.”

Kyoutani flushes. 

Yahaba smacks him again. 

“The fuck was that for?” Kyoutani hisses.

“I - uh - you’ve just been sitting on your ass for that time,” Yahaba says.  _ Nice save, Yahaba.  _ “I bet Iwaizumi has gone through a lot more.” 

“We don’t have to compare their suffering, dude,” Watari says. “But I am kinda curious about your story.”

Iwaizumi grins. He dives into the story of how he was first caught by the Juvies and how Shiratorizawa got him out. He tells them about the safe houses and the people he met, from Kuroo and Kenma to Bokuto and Akaashi. And how it all came to a climax at the last safe house, with Kunimi and Kindaichi. 

“I dropped Kunimi off at a safe house and started wandering, and that’s how I found myself here, I guess,” Iwaizumi finishes. 

Telling them his story gives him time to reflect on it, too. When picking the parts to tell, he finds himself skimming over details in favor of telling the exciting parts, the parts that mattered most to him, the parts that filled him with pride and hope. 

He only mentions Oikawa once, at the very beginning. Just that feels strange; he’s hardly able to think about Oikawa without feeling confusion any more. 

When’s the last time he thought of Oikawa? Truly tried to remember him, and their relationship? 

“Why’d you leave?” Kyoutani asks. 

“Huh?” He’d have to deal with his feelings about Oikawa later. 

“Why’d you leave the safe houses?” 

Three pairs of eyes stare at him curiously. 

“I…” Iwaizumi hesitates, embarrassed to admit his vendetta when he’s been resting here the past few days. “I wanted to do something more. I wanted to fight back against the unwinding system.”

Yahaba frowns. Watari looks confused. Kyoutani’s eyes sparkle. 

“Fight back?” Yahaba asks. 

“I’m tired of running,” Iwaizumi explains, “and hiding in the shadows, and waiting to be caught. The only way we’ll all truly be safe is if we take action against the Juvies. Legislation isn’t going to change easily. We can’t wait for that to happen. We need to take the Juvies head on, take them on in  _ their _ space. We need to scare them until they’re so terrified, they won’t think to bother us again!”

After that speech, Iwaizumi breathes hard. He didn’t mean to go that far, but once he got started, everything came spilling out. It felt good. 

Kyoutani grunts in agreement. Iwaizumi gives him a grateful nod. 

“Fight back...kinda like what you did with Kuroo and Kenma?” Watari asks.

Iwaizumi nods. “Exactly.”

“That’s crazy,” Yahaba says. “That doesn't even make _sense_. Besides, do you know how dangerous that is?”

“Just living is dangerous for us,” Iwaizumi says, recalling what Kuroo had said one time. 

“He’s right,” Kyoutani says. 

He looks around him at each of the other boys, at Yahaba, whose suggestion to Irihata ensured people like Iwaizumi had a safe place to stay, at Watari, the one who caught him stealing and extended a hand to help. At Kyoutani, who’d been trained since birth to be compliant. 

He’s glad Irihata’s gone. He doesn’t think the older man would approve of this kind of talk.

Iwaizumi stands up. “Aren’t you tired of sitting back and doing nothing?”

Yahaba smacks his glass down forcefully. “Are you implying what we’re doing is nothing?”

“What? No - but think about it,” Iwaizumi says. “You’re only putting a bandage on a bigger problem. If we took down the Juvey station, you wouldn’t have to house AWOLs in the first place.”

Yahaba scowls. “What are you getting at?”

“I’m saying,” Iwaizumi says, lips curling in a grin, “we should take some action ourselves.” 

 

 

  
**Akaashi Keiji**

_ (Nov. 4)  _

 

There are an infinite number of ways for an AWOL to get caught. They could trust the wrong people, fall for a Juvey’s trap, fail to find a safe house, be in the wrong place at the wrong time. 

Of all the ways an AWOL gets caught, turning themselves in is the rarest of them all.

 

“What’s the date today?”

The rebel glances at her watch. “November fourth.”

“It’s my eighteenth birthday,” Akaashi says. 

The rebel’s eyebrows shoot up. “Really? Congratulations, you - ”

“So I’ll be taking my leave now.” 

“Wait…”

A couple of minutes of arguing with the rebel to convince her to let him leave the safe house, and Akaashi is on his own. It wasn’t like she could verify his age. And if he were of legal age, who was she to stop him? He could make his own decisions, even though, she told him, taking to the streets this early after his birthday was dangerous.

That wasn’t the case, of course. He had lied in order to leave the safe houses. 

During the day, he hides in an alleyway. He won’t travel far until the night, when the shadows are strong enough to obscure his face. He’s gone this far without anyone having recognized him - he’s not about to start testing his luck now. 

Or maybe he  _ should _ have someone recognize him? That might make it easier for this to happen. He could walk into the daylight, and someone could recognize him and ask for his autograph, and the Juvies would be on him in seconds. 

No, he doesn’t want to have to deal with his past persona. It would likely cause an interesting reaction in the media, but what did that matter to Akaashi? He wants this to happen on his own terms. 

Eventually, dusk falls to dark. Akaashi finds himself in front of a library.

A long time ago, libraries used to be a place where anyone was welcome, where people could find shelves and shelves of paper books. Though most libraries still had their paper collections, they all converted to a digital platform. Dozens of holoscreens were set up for the public to use. Even AWOLs could use the internet here, as long as they were careful to avoid questioning by curious librarians. 

Akaashi checks the hours on the library before walking inside. It will be open another hour. Glancing inside, Akaashi sees only a few people, each of them completely absorbed in their own holoscreens. _ Perfect.  _ Satisfied, Akashi walks inside. This was as good a place as any for the Juvies to catch him for the second time. For the final time. 

After revealing everything to Bokuto and Kaori, reliving his experience and being reminded of everything he’d done, Akaashi told himself he needed time alone. Time to reflect on his life and decide where to go from here.

The past few weeks in the safehouses, he’d taken the time to do exactly that.

How could he have fallen so far? At this point, after everything he’d done, the question isn’t whether or not he can survive. It’s whether or not he  _ should _ survive. There comes a point when the weight of his sins outweighed the weight of his life, and the scale of morality tipped out of balance. It wasn’t fair for him to live. 

Looking back, everything went downhill after Sarukui was unwound. Akaashi let fear rule his life, choosing to fulfill his own needs and never considering others’. The staho mindest. Nevermind that he had grown up believing that - he should have known better. He should have been stronger. He should have been smarter. He shouldn’t have lashed out at Daishou. He shouldn’t have revealed his secret to Mika.

He wonders where they are now. Did Mika break up with him? Did the Producer find out about their relationship? The only good thing Akaashi had ever done for them was refuse to reveal their secret at the end, but even that might not have been enough. 

What about his bandmates? He knew Kaori was in the safe house system, but would she make it to the Court? What about Komi and Konoha? Had they even gotten the chance? Or were they sitting in a freezer in a parts bank? 

This was the first time in years Akaashi was truly isolated. As an idol, he was always with his bandmates and security guards lined his doors. In the safe house system, the only time he wasn’t surrounded by other kids was his brief moments in the bathroom. He didn’t know silence until n the only breath he could hear was his own. 

Now, he was free of other people. He was free of obligation. Yet, his options were limited. A bird raised in captivity finally let out of its cage, free to fly away, only to find its wingtips cut. 

As an AWOL, he could never amount to anything. Ashamed of the things he’d done, guilty for hiding them, angry that there wasn’t anything to justify the things he’d done to save himself, he feels as hopeless as he did when the Juvies took him in the middle of the night. Only now, Bokuto wasn’t here to stop him from drowning in his hopelessness. 

Akaashi’s heart flip flops whenever he thinks of Bokuto. In a twisted game of Monkey in the Middle, both guilt and shame toss his heart back and forth while Akaashi desperately tries intercept it from between them. After straining to reach for days, he’s given up hope of trying to get it back.

Akaashi sits down at a table and turns on the holoscreen. He pulls up the Japanese Juvenile Control Force website and finds that tab titled “Report an AWOL.”

In the blank box that appears, he writes out a message.

_ My name is Akaashi Keiji and I am an AWOL. I am currently at the Kakuda City Library. Please send in forces immediately. I will not resist capture.  _

His finger hovers over the send button. All he needs to do now is press down, and it will all be over. He’ll disappear just like Sarukui did; not a single soul will know what become of Akaashi Keiji. 

_ Maybe it’s not death, maybe it’s just like they said. I’ll survive, just in another state of being. My heart will beat, my hands will flex. I might even be able to play music again.  _

The outline “send” button pulses teal on the screen, beckoning him to press down. 

After half his life spent ensuring he lived, attempting to turn himself in feels wrong. His muscles seize up and his heart begins to thud; his whole body works against him to keep itself whole. Akaashi takes a deep breath in, and slowly lets it out, willing his tumultuous heart to calm. 

_ I will be fine. It’s what I deserve. At least this way, I’ll actually be helping people.  _

His finger hovers there a moment longer. And then he lifts his hand up. 

He can’t do it. He can’t do it. 

Sending this message is antithetical to his own nature. Threatening his own survival is something he just can’t do. It’s like holding a knife to his neck; his body simply won’t let him slit his throat. 

Maybe he’s just too weak. Maybe he’s being selfish again. Maybe it isn’t fair that he stays alive and whole. 

But isn’t it fair that he has a chance to make up for what he’s done? 

_ “Redemption is always possible. That’s why you need to keep living - you can’t make up for mistakes if you’re in a bunch of pieces.” _

Iwaizumi’s words come back to him. He had done horrible things in the name of survival, but if he gives up now, then everything was wasted. It can’t be for nothing. There would be no point to any of it if he just turns himself in.

He had a body that was his own and a mind that functioned. He could still help others. He could still keep living. Even if he could never fully make up for his mistakes, he could still do good. 

He thinks back to the beginning of the end, when he and Bokuto escaped the Juvey van. He thinks of Shibayama, who thanked him for saving his life, and he thinks of how grateful Bokuto was when he agreed to be his fake boyfriend. 

_ “ _ _ I meant what I said. I think you’re a good person, Akaashi.” _

Maybe, he could even be loved. 

Akaashi deletes the message and closes out of the Juvey website. He quickly walks out of the library before anyone recognizes him and heads back to the safe house to start again. 

 

 

  
**Yamaguchi Tadashi**

_ (Nov. 10) _

 

_ The hospital is as white as he remembers it. But this time, he’s not wearing green - he’s dripping red. _

_ He crouches down and pulls himself into a ball, shielding himself from the impending bombardment of bodies and cacophony of cries of the people he’s meant to save.  _

_ He’s met with silence. Empty, ear-shattering silence.  _

_ After a century, he peaks between his fingers. He’s alone, he only sound the “plip plop” of the red that drips off his fingers and forms a pool on the ground beneath him. The room is empty. _

_ He looks towards the door. The door that wasn’t there before.  _

_ He stands up slowly and walks toward the door. He grips the handle, waiting for the moaning and crying that never comes. _

_ He turns the handle and throws open the door. _

_ Black black black - a swirling mass of darkness and chaos opens in front of him. He cries out but the sound is sucked into the void. He can’t see an inch past the mass but he can feel the grip of chaos, black licks of darkness urging him to walk through the doorway. He can hear Tsukki's shouting at him -  _

_ “When did you get to decide anything? You’ve been fed bullshit your entire life.” _

_ “That’s what death is like - you lose your thoughts, your consciousness, and you cease to be a person, to be alive. So, unwinding is death...maybe even worse than it.” _

_ And Suga's -  _

_ “Think about what you want. Not what your parents want. Not what society wants. Not even what Tsukki wants. Your life is your own, and you don’t owe anybody anything.” _

_ He wants to jump in, embrace the unknown, he wants to escape the hospital room, but the red pooled beneath him is sticky and he can’t pry his feet off the ground.  _

_ He thought this was what he wanted, but he was never prepared to confront the dark face of uncertainty.  _

 

“Hey Yamaguchi, can you hand me the shovel?” 

“What?” Yamaguchi shakes his head, trying to shake off the memories of the dream. Shibayama looks at him expectantly. 

“Oh, yeah, sure…” He reaches for the shovel next to him and tosses it to the other boy. 

Right now, he tends to the genetically engineered rice, checking for weeks and making sure the irrigation system wasn’t leaking while Shibayama did the same for the paddy next to this one. 

Even hours after he’d gotten up, the dream still had him shaken. He hadn’t had a dream like that since...since before the incident in front of the Juvey Station. It was different this time. It didn’t make him feel fear or guilt like it did before. Instead he feel confused, and hollow. As a tithe, he had a purpose, one goal that his life was leading up to, his North Star he traveled towards all his life. But now the night sky was devoid of stars and Yamaguchi had no direction. At least before, they had the goal to get to the Court, but now he was here...what now?

Working in the gardens provided some reprieve from all the questions. Never in a million years would Yamaguchi have thought he would return to nature after hiking through the mountains for several weeks straight. He was damn near furious when the Court’s job commission assigned him to work in the gardens, but after spending a few days learning about the plants and how to care for them, Yamaguchi realized the work wasn’t that bad. It was one thing to battle nature in the elements, and another to help it grow and use it to his advantage. He actually enjoyed the peacefulness on the highest floor of the Court.

“Hey, Tadashi.”

Of course, the peace never lasts. 

Yamaguchi turns around. Akiteru stands there, dressed in the rebel’s usual khaki jumpsuit. He gives Yamaguchi an awkward smile. 

“Uh, just wanted to check in.”

Every day since _that_ day, Akiteru had found Yamaguchi to “just check in” with him. Yamaguchi understood that was his way of saying “will my brother talk to me yet?”

Out of all the things Yamaguchi expected from the Court, Akiteru wasn’t one of them. Yamaguchi was nearly as shocked as Tsukki was to see Akiteru in the flesh, at the Court of all places. He almost didn’t recognize him; in the past few years, he’s grown and changed a lot. He looked like an adult now. 

He was even more shocked when Tsukki stood up and ran before Akiteru even finished saying his name. Torn between the two Tsukishima’s, Yamaguchi had apologized to the older and ran after the younger. It had taken him two hours to track him down. The garden was the last place Yamaguchi expected to find him. 

 

_ Heart still pounded from running through the dirt, Yamaguchi finally spots him. He sits on a bench beside a patch of carrots. He leans over, holding onto his elbows.  _

_ Yamaguchi comes and sits next to him. “Are you okay?” _

_ “I’m fine.” _

_ “Then why’d you run away?” _

_ Tsukki stays silent.  _

_ “Aren’t you happy he’s alive?” Yamaguchi asks. _

_ “That’s not the point,” Tsukki says breathlessly. “He left me. He left me for two years. Two years I thought he was just - just a bucket of parts. He never came back for me.”  _

_ Yamaguchi places his hand on Tsukki’s knee. “I know that must hurt. But maybe you could go back down and ask - ” _

_ “I don’t want to talk to him,” Tsukki said. He stands up, pushing Yamaguchi’s hand off of him. “I don’t want to see him again.” _

 

Two years ago, Tsukki had come to him when he found out what happened to Akiteru. Yamaguchi remembers going with Tsukki to the memoratorium the first time, and the second time. In a way, he can understand his friend’s anger. All that time spent mourning unnecessarily isn’t something easy to forgive. 

So he helped his friend hide from his brother. He knows Tsukki will have to face Akiteru eventually, he knows  _ Tsukki _ knows that, but the least he can do is give his friend some time to work things out on his own.

Nine days was a little long, though. 

Yamaguchi wipes the sweat off his brow and returns Akiteru’s smile. “I’ll try talking to him again today. He’s just being, um. Stubborn.”

Akiteru scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah. Sounds like Kei.”

“He’ll come around.”

“Thanks, Tadashi.” Akiteru places his hand firmly on his shoulder. “But hey, how are you doing?”

_ I’m still confused about basically everything and I’m kind of regretting not letting myself be unwound but not enough to actually turn myself in and also you’re back which is really weird and Tsukki’s being annoying and I don’t have a purpose in life anymore and it’s slowly driving me crazy.  _

“I’m good,” Yamaguchi says. 

Akiteru raises an eyebrow. “I don’t buy that.” 

Akiteru looks so much like Tsukki in this moment, Yamaguchi lets out a giggle. He forgot how well Akiteru knew him. He was like an older brother to him. At first, seeing Akiteru brought back a wave of shame. He remembered how easily he’d been convinced by his parents that Akiteru was a bad kid, even though Yamaguchi knew that couldn’t be true. He was reminded of how he used to view unwinds. 

He reminds himself that he’s changed since then. 

Yamaguchi sighs. “I’m not great...but I’m getting there.”

Akiteru pats his shoulder. “That sounds a little more realistic. If you ever need anything, don’t be afraid to ask me. I’m here for you too, not just Kei.” 

Yamaguchi nods. “Yeah, I know…”

“You’re a really great guy. I’m glad Kei has you for a friend.”

Yamaguchi blushes. “Th-thanks.”

“Oh wait, one more thing - happy birthday,” Akiteru says. Yamaguchi’s brows shoot up. That’s right - today was his birthday. That’s why he’d had the dream last night. “I’m glad you’re here, and not...you know.”

“I - yeah. Same. Thanks, Akiteru.”

With one final shoulder pat, Akiteru leaves the garden, and Yamaguchi goes back to work. 

Before he can start hacking away at a week, Shibayama jogs over to him. “It’s your birthday today?” he asks excitedly. 

“Yup.”

“Maybe we can get the chefs to make you a cake or something!”

Tithes typically had huge fourteenth birthday parties, exquisite events with lots of people and lots of food and lots of farewells. The party was supposed to be his last hurrah, his final goodbye, as grand as Bilbo’s eleventy first birthday; his parents had started planning it last year.

What were his parents doing now? Did they ask for a refund on the venue they’d rented out? Did they return the embroidered napkins and personalized chopsticks?

Yamaguchi didn’t want to be reminded of any of that. 

“That’s okay. I think I’d like it better if we didn’t do anything at all, actually...” 

“Oh. Okay.” Shibayama backs down immediately. That’s one of the reasons Yamaguchi likes working with him; he’s inquisitive, but he knows where to draw the line. “In that case…” Shibayama says, “....finish weeding for me? I wanna get a good space in the lunch line. I’d excuse you first as a birthday present, but since we’re not doing that…” Shibayama shrugs, the hint of a smile on his face.

Yamaguchi smirks. “I take it back. Could you finish weeding for me, Shibayama? It’s my birthday.”

 

After lunch, Yamaguchi is summoned to the fourth floor by one of the runners. 

“Why?” he asks.

The runner shrugs. “Heck if I know.”

So Yamaguchi makes his way up to the fourth floor, to a tiny room on the border of the floor. He peeks inside to see a head of blonde hair sitting in front of a small desk.  

“Are you going to just stand there?” Tsukki says, swiveling the chair around. 

“Yeah, the view’s pretty nice,” Yamaguchi says. Of course it was Tsukki. Who else does he know who works on the fourth floor? 

“Um. Akiteru - ”

“We’re not talking about him right now,” Tsukki says. 

“But - ”

Tsukki stands up and smashes a finger against his lips. He stares intently at Yamaguchi, his golden eyes, usually hidden behind his glasses, staring straight through him. Yamaguchi gulps. 

Suddenly, Tsukki pushes him down into the chair. “Here,” he says, handing Yamaguchi a pair of VR goggles, complete with a head set. 

“What are these for?”

“Just put it on.” 

Yamaguchi obliges, sliding the goggles on over his face. He's enveloped in darkness, just like the dream last night. With Tsukki hovering next to him, it doesn't feel as scary. 

“Happy birthday,” Tsukki says in his ear. Lips press against his cheek. 

Yamaguchi shoots up straight, as if struck by lightning. His hand flies to his face, ghosting past the spot where Tsukki had kissed him. 

Strong hands push hold his shoulders down. “Enjoy your gift,” Tsukki says, smushing the headphones down over his ears. The goggles click on, and he’s suddenly enveloped in colorful lights. Stage lights. 

He blinks once. He’s in the middle of a cheering crowd. Before him is a stage, and on it - 

“Hey everyone, hope you’re ready to rock!” a girl dressed in a gold suit shouts. Behind her, three boys dressed in similar suits tune their instruments. 

The crowd cheers louder. 

He blinks again. 

“Oh my god, this is a FUKURO4 concert!” 

Yamaguchi turns next to him, to squeal at Tsukki, but Tsukki isn’t there, of course. Yamaguchi will have to thank him properly once it’s over. How he managed to pirate a copy of the VR edition of FUKURO4’s Golden Year tour, Yamaguchi has no idea, but he must have went to great lengths to get it for him. 

For the first time in months, he can’t stop himself from grinning. 

 

When the concert’s over, and Yamaguchi takes off the goggles and headphones, he finds the room empty. 

_ That idiot was too chicken to stay.  _

Yamaguchi touches his cheek gingerly. He’s overwhelmed by a feeling, something he’s never felt before. Happiness of being alive and whole. 

  
  


 

**lii. Yachi Hitoka**

_ (Nov. 10) _

 

There’s something about this safe house that feels off and Yachi’s not really sure what it is but she has a bad feeling and it’s kind of freaking her out.

Yes, she feels that way about every new safe house, but this time is  _ different _ .

Or maybe she’s just being paranoid again. Did she take her meds yet today? She hasn’t, so that’s probably it, that’s why she’s feeling like this.

Yachi slips the bottle of Zoloft out of her pocket and holds it between her palms. There’s only a few pills left; she’ll have to ask one of the rebels to replenish her supply...which she dreads having to do. Guilt always lingered in her gut whenever she asked the rebels to spend money on her, making them go out of their way when they already did so much for her. But she’s afraid if she doesn’t have her meds, she’ll be even  _ more _ of an annoyance so really, she’s doing them a favor in the end. She still doesn’t like it, though.

“Here.”

Yachi jumps. It’s only Kaori, one of the other kids in the safe house. She holds a glass of water out to her.

“Oh! Um, thanks!”  _ Oh my gosh, a pretty girl got me water! And now she’s smiling at me! _

Trying to reign in her blush, Yachi shakes out a pill into her hand, and gratefully accepts the glass.

Kaori sits down beside her, so their thighs touch. Yachi almost chokes on her water.

“All these safe houses are pretty boring,” Kaori says.

Struggling to force another gulp of water down her throat, Yachi nods fervently. “Mmhhmm!”

“But I think this one is the most boring of them all.”

Yachi nods again and sighs. Kaori’s right. Most of the safehouses had at least a board game to play, or holoscreens to use, or even paper books and magazines, but this warehouse was devoid of any activities. It was a pretty open space, meant to store broken restaurant bots. But besides their cots, and a few snacks, those bots were the only thing here. Stacked against the walls, the fluorescent lights danced off their blank screens. The only other person in the safe house besides them had spent the entire time sleeping. Yachi can’t blame him, but at the same time, she doesn’t think she can get a wink of sleep while they’re surrounded by creepy bots.

“I wouldn’t mind if it was just boring,” Yachi says. “But it’s kinda creepy, too.”

Kaori giggles. Her breath catches; Kaori’s laugh is such a pretty sound. “No kidding,” she says. “Safe houses were already bad enough…but who decided it would be a good idea to have one in a bot warehouse?”

“It’s not just that it’s uncomfortable,” Yachi says, “It’s dangerous. Most of the other safe houses were underground or out of the way, but this is right in the middle of a busy street, anyone could just walk in here and find us and then they’ll call the juvies and we’ll be sent to harvest camp – ”

“Don’t you think you’re a being a little paranoid?” Kaori asks.

Yachi winces. She can’t count the number of times someone has told her that. If there’s any time to be paranoid,  _ now -  _ when she’s literally  _ on the run for her life -  _ is the best time.

“I heard one of the rebels talking about how a safe house had been raided,” Yachi says. “What if they’re hunting down safe houses? What if they found a way to track us? What if the safe houses aren’t safe any more? Oh my god what if we’re next?!”

“Yachi – ”

_ Bang! _

Yachi leaps to her feet, heart hammering in her chest. “What was that?!” she squeaks.

Even Kaori looks concerned now. “I’m not – ”

The door to the warehouse flies open and a stampede of navy tramples inside. A long stripe of red runs up the side of their dark uniforms. They’re carrying guns – tranq guns. The wave of anxiety that hovered menacingly above her now engulfs her whole.  _ Juvies – I was right, they found us, they found us - _

Yachi can’t help it. She screams. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)
> 
> Two questions for yall: fav pov? has it stayed to same or changed? And if you could have another pov for someone we only saw once, (ex tanaka, tendou), or someone who's pov we haven't had before, who would it be?


	17. Duty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kozume Kenma wonders what Iwaizumi’s up to now. Yahaba Shigeru wishes he didn’t know what Iwaizumi was up to. Sugawara Koushi doesn’t even think about Iwaizumi because the author didn’t have them meet yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Exactly none of the POV characters this chapter are mentioned in the summary for this fic. Not even referenced too. Lmaoooo this fic turned out a lot differently than i thought it would

**liii. Kenma Kozume**

_(Nov. 11)_

 

“Do you have any skills?”

Kenma shrugs.

“Try to help us out here, man,” Ukai sighs. “This sucks for all of us, you know.”

Kenma just stares at the man sitting across from him blankly, hoping it will make this go quicker. He fingers the gaming device in his pocket. He has one last battle before he can level up. He could have been a lot further now, but thanks to that Shiratorizawa guy, he had to work his way back up.  

Ukai taps his fingers together. “You said you were in a staho?”

Kenma nods.

“What was your talent?”

“Academics.”

“Did you have a specialization?”

“...computers.”

“Okay!” Ukai throws up his hands in exasperation. “This is good. We never have enough people working on the tech end. You don't mind working with computers, right?”

Kenma shrugs. "It's fine."

Ukai writes something on a piece of paper and hands it to Kenma. “Congratulations, you’re assigned to IT on the fourth floor.”

IT? He guesses it could be worse.

“Next!”

A part of Kenma can’t believe they’ve finally arrived at the Court. At this point, after traveling between safe houses for three months, he wouldn’t have been surprised if the Court didn’t really exist. But here they were, in one piece, still together. It’s too good to be true.

Kenma meets Kuroo and Bokuto outside the room, where they’ve already been processed along with the rest of the unwinds that had been bussed from Saeko’s safe house to the Court. The first thing they did after getting off was face Ukai and get assigned a job. Once the other bus of unwinds was processed, Ukai said he would give them a tour of the Court, and then they’d be expected to start on their jobs.

Kuroo greets him by snatching the paper out of his hand. Bokuto peaks over Kuroo’s shoulder. “Where were you assigned?” Kuroo asks.

Kenma rolls his eyes, waiting for Kuroo to read the paper instead of answering him.

“Ohoho, IT! Kenma, that fits you perfectly!” Kuroo says.

Kenma’s lip curls. 'Perfect' was pushing it.  

“That’s so cool!” Bokuto says, eyes bright. “I heard that hardly anyone is assigned to the fourth floor! You must be really smart.”

Kenma shrugs, thinking of how quickly Ukai had determined his position. “Not really.”

Kuroo nudges him hard enough to make him take a few steps back. “Stop belittling your skill,” he says. “The Court is lucky to have you.”

Kenma bites his lip to keep from smiling and nudges Kuroo back. “Shut up.”

“Never.” Kuroo looks back down at the paper, then gives it back to Kenma. “Shit, if you’re on the fourth floor, that means you’re nearest to the dining floor."

“So...?”

“So you have to save us a spot in line, duh.”

“No.”

“Kenmaaaaaa.”

Kenma rolls his eyes. They both know Kenma will save them a space in line anyway. “Are you guys even that far away?”

“Yeah! I’m assigned to the warehouse!” Bokuto says. “It’s the building attached to the Court, where they store all the used sport equipment and the drones. I’ll be doing _manual labor,_ ” Bokuto says with a deep inflection. He flexes his arms, muscles straining through his t-shirt. “Ukai-san took one look at my muscles, and _boom!_ I had a job. He said they need more people down there since no one is ever strong enough to lift the bigger orders onto the drones, but I promised him I could.”

Kuroo pats Bokuto’s bicep. “They’re lucky to have you too, bro.”

“You really think so bro?”

“I really do, bro.”

“Bro.”

While the idiots are preoccupied with their bro-ing, Kenma slips Kuroo’s paper out of his hand. Kuroo’s assigned to the gardens, all the way on the eleventh floor. No wonder Kuroo wanted him to save a space for him - there were seven floors between them. That’s a lot of stairs.

Kenma wonders how this will affect his relationship with Kuroo. They were together twenty-four seven for three months straight. He learned more about Kuroo in this time than in years before. While that time spent in each other’s company forced them to grow closer, it also drove a gap between them. Arriving at the Court finally gave him hope that he and Kuroo could grow closer once again. And because of the safety the Court promises - maybe even closer than friends.

These job assignments put a crack in that fragile dream.

It was a stupid dream, anyway. A dangerous dream. Kenma should know better.

“Why are you working in the garden?” he asks.

“Hey.” Kuroo takes the slip of paper from Kenma. “Don’t steal other people’s stuff, it’s rude.”

Why him? Why did Kenma have to fall in love with this idiot?

“It’s because of my chemistry background,” Kuroo continues. “They say I can apply it to monitoring the acidity of the soil and other shit the GMOs need. I don’t really know anything about it, but I told Ukai I’d try.”

 _You shouldn’t have told him that,_ Kenma wants to say. It’s too late now, though.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to find the bathroom.”

He watches Kuroo disappear into the crowd. Without Kuroo hovering over him, he grows conscious of the huge group of AWOLs packed around him. The hoard of smelly teenage bodies reminds him of the staho. It makes him anxious. He ducks his head down to hide in his hair and takes a step closer to Bokuto.

Bokuto sneaks a glance at the people around him. He looks above the crowd, surveying the tops of everyone’s head.

“Are you looking for Akaashi?” Kenma asks.

“No, no, of course not, I’m not worrying about him.” Bokuto continues staring off into the crowd.

“He’s not here,” Kenma says.

Bokuto turns his attention back to Kenma. “How do you know?”

“If he were, there’d be an uproar,” Kenma says. “He was an idol, after all.”

“Oh yeah! That makes sense,” Bokuto says. He finally gives up on looking at the crowd. “It’s still weird thinking of him as an idol, you know? He’s still just Akaashi to me.”

Bokuto’s mood seemed to have improved the past few days, but Kenma sensed he was still far from being over Akaashi. Kenma imagines they’d grown close living together for the last month - after all, it had happened with him and Kuroo.

“I bet he’ll come.”

Bokuto perks up. “You think so?”

In a lot of ways, Akaashi had reminded Kenma of himself. He was closed off, he didn’t like to show affection, and he was determined to survive.

Kenma nods, and offers Bokuto a small smile. “Yeah. He will.”

“I’m back!” Kuroo barges into their conversation, throwing his hands Kenma and Bokuto’s shoulders. Kenma reaches up to push his hand off, but stops himself. Kuroo’s familiar hand is grounding in the sea of unfamiliar people. “I just ran into this girl I remembered seeing in a safe house awhile ago. It was weird, man. Did you guys see anyone you recognized?”

Kenma and Bokuto shake their heads. Kenma glances at him. His grin is strained. Kenma bets he’s thinking of Akaashi again. _Nice going, Kuroo._

“I hope we run into that Iwaizumi guy again. Imagine how much havoc we could wreak in a place like this,” Kuroo says. “Plus we can tell him we saw his friend.”

Kenma thinks that’s the worst thing imaginable. The Court was supposed to be a safe space - not one to stir up trouble.

Bokuto does a double-take. “Wait - you know Iwaizumi? I met him too!”

“Dude really?” Kuroo says. “Damn, everyone knows this guy. It’s almost like the author set it up so we could all meet each other or something.”

“Kuroo. What are you talking about.”

“Nothing. I’m just saying - it’s weird.”

“I don’t think it’s weird, I think it’s cool!” Bokuto says. He tells them how he met Iwaizumi at one of the safehouses, back when he was with Akaashi. Kenma wishes he and Kuroo could trade places with Bokuto and Akaashi - everything between him and Kuroo could be so much less stressful if they had had a nature walk with Iwaizumi rather than a spy mission.

Kuroo sighs. “Do you think he got to the Court this round?”

“Don’t think so, I didn’t see him here.”

“I wonder what that guy’s up to now.”

  


 

**liv. Yahaba Shigeru**

_(Nov. 11)_

 

Yahaba Shigeru cannot _believe_ what Iwaizumi is up to.

That first day, when Iwaizumi came to their door asking for a meal, no questions asked, Yahaba expected him to pass through the memoratorium with no problems, like any other AWOL. But Iwaizumi didn't passed through. No. He stayed, and in return for their kindness, he offered rousing words and irresponsible ideas. No wonder his parents chose to unwind him - he was crazy! Raiding a Juvey station? Attacking Juvey cops? Did he have a death wish?

Yet, Yahaba can’t even be mad at Iwaizumi, because the _real_ crazy ones were Watari and Kyoutani. Iwaizumi’s words could have stayed just words if those two hadn’t entertained his ideas. Watari, who had next to no reason to involve himself in this affair, and Kyoutani, who just _asking_ to be caught.

But perhaps the craziest of them all was Yahaba himself. Because he insisted on going with them.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” he says, for the fifth time that day.

“Would you shut up already?” Kyoutani says. “You’ve said that five times already.”

Yahaba ignores him. “Irihata’s going to kill me when he finds out.”

“What’s he gonna do?” Watari says. “Not let you serve soup to homeless teens?”

“He knows my _parents_.”

“Oh. Right.”

He feels guilty for taking advantage of Irihata’s generousity. For most of his life, Yahaba was hardly aware of Irihata’s existence - an outlier in a family with a tithing tradition - but after Yuda was unwound, Irihata was the only one he could turn to. He had given Yahaba a space to speak his mind and the opportunity to do something about his tumultuous feelings. He’d used his own money and risked arrest by harboring a safe space for AWOLs. And now, they snuck out after Irihata had gone to sleep, stole his truck, and drove into town to commit a felony.

Yahaba can’t lie to himself - he’s scared shitless.

At a sharp turn, he clutches the side of the truck. Iwaizumi said he knew how to drive, but Yahaba knew he couldn’t have had his license yet; he was too young. How ironic would it be if they got caught for driving without a license before they even got to the station? If it weren’t for the two AWOLs sitting in the front, Yahaba would hope for that to happen.

He glances at the car’s clock. 12:52 A.M. On a school night, too. Lovely. He told his parents he was spending the night at Watari’s, and Watari told his parents the same about Yahaba. He already felt guilty for using Irihata, and now he feels guilt for lying to his parents, and with each stop light they pass to get to the town’s Juvey station, the guilt festers. His stomach feels sick. 

He catches Iwaizumi’s eye in the mirror and immediately looks down at the seat. Resting between him and Watari is the frying pan Iwaizumi insisted on bringing. Yahaba had decided to stop trying to understand Iwaizumi the moment he pulled it out of the kitchen with a creepy grin on his face.

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, Yahaba,” Iwaizumi says.

Yahaba looks out the window. “I know.”

Normally Yahaba would never agree to this kind of thing. As an upstanding model citizen, he knows how to stay in line - okay, that was a bit of an exaggeration considering what they did at the memoratorium, but the point is, he isn’t reckless. He’d never even _think_ to do something as stupid as this. But both Kyoutani and Watari were intent on helping Iwaizumi. He couldn’t let these two idiots go by themselves with some as clearly unstable as Iwaizumi. So he came. Just to watch over them.

He fingers the lock pick in his pocket. The cool metal warms against his fingertips. This was a bit more than “watching over them,” maybe, but Yahaba deemed it necessary. He just hopes it’ll be enough.

He glances at the tithe. Kyoutani sits shotgun, staring straight ahead with that stupid intense look in his eye that never seemed to retire. But there was something more, too, in the way he held himself. Sitting up straight, almost proud, the quirk of a smile on his lips, arms crossed defiantly. Yahaba will admit (to himself, never out loud) that it's a good look on him. 

Stupid Kyoutani. Risking his life for something this stupid. Didn’t he already do enough to put himself in danger? Kyoutani loitered around the memoratorium for years, Irihata had told him. Yet he never accepted more than three meals a week.He prowled around like a wild dog, living off of handouts and scraps, trotting along the edge of Juvey territory. If he would accept Yahaba and Irihata's help, he wouldn't need to put himself in danger. Every time Kyoutani disappeared, Yahaba's nerves were a wreck, constantly thinking that he had been injured or caught.

Stupid Kyoutani. Making him care too much. 

“I don’t get it,” Kyoutani says. “Why are you against this? Weren’t you the one who suggested Irihata open a safe house?”

Yahaba guffaws. Was he being serious? “Yeah, but giving meals to homeless teens is just a teensy bit different than _raiding a goddamn Juvey station.”_

Saying it aloud makes it sound even more absurd. A nervous laugh passes through Yahaba’s lips.

Watari pats his knee. “You okay?”

“I’m _excellent_ . Just fabulous. _Splendid_.”

“Whoa Captain Sarcasm, just checking in on you.”

Kyoutani turns around to face him. “Why are you even here if you don’t want to be?”

Yahaba glares back at him. “...I want to.”

The truth was, he wasn’t just doing this for Kyoutani and Watari. He was doing it in part for himself, as well. For the best friend he had lost to this very Juvey station.

For as long as he could remember, his best friend Kaneo Yuda always dressed in green.

Yahaba knew what it meant - it meant that Yuda was special. He was better than everyone, he had a higher calling. Teachers let him off easy, his parents spoiled him. Sometimes, Yahaba envied the special treatment he got. He always resented when Yuda ever sounded unappreciative of his fate. But his mother told him it was disrespectful to mention tithing around Yuda, so Yahaba bit his tongue.

He never spoke about tithing until they were ten years old, and Yuda’s older brother had his tithing party. Yahaba was awed by the sheer gaudiness of the party. Yahaba would be ecstatic to have a party like this, but he knew his parents would never spend this much money on him. But Yuda cried the whole way through. Yahaba didn’t understand why his friend was so upset by it. Wasn’t he happy for his brother, proud that he was finally fulfilling his higher purpose?

Yahaba had to pull him aside so he wouldn’t make a scene. When he asked Yuda what was wrong, he told him he would miss his brother, and the party made him sad.

They didn’t bring up tithing again until Yuda’s tithing party. Yahaba had a blast dancing and eating and playing karaoke. Yuda seemed to enjoy himself, too.

But as soon as everyone else left, he cried.

 

_Small fists grip the edges of his suit jacket, wrinkling the fabric. Yuda rests his forehead against Yahaba’s shoulder, hiding his tear-stricken face. “I don’t want to say goodbye!” he cries. “I don’t want to leave you or mom or dad or grandpa - ”_

_Yahaba hadn’t expected this when Yuda brought him to the bathroom to tell him a secret._

_“Shigeru - Shigeru I don’t want this - I don’t want to be a tithe - ”_

_“But you’re so lucky!” Yahaba says. He holds Yuda’s wrists and pries his hands off his jacket. He offers him a shaky smile. “I’m jealous of - ”_

_“Stop saying that!”_

_Yahaba freezes, struck by the forcefulness of his voice._

_Yuda rips his arms out of Yahaba’s grip. “Stop saying I’m lucky, that you’re jealous. You shouldn’t be! Tithing isn’t a privilege. My life is over now, but you get to live a fulfilling life in your own body.” He wipes a hand across his freshly wet cheeks. “I’m jealous of_ you _.”_

_Yahaba doesn’t know what else to do, so he hugs Yuda and pats his back while he cries._

_Yahaba had no idea his friend felt this way. “Why didn’t you say anything?”_

_“I did,” Yuda says. His voice is as small as a five yen coin discarded on the side of the road. “I did, I really did - but no one listened.”_

_That’s when Yahaba realizes he had contributed to Yuda’s turmoil. If he had just listened, if he had talked about things that weren’t so polite to talk about, his friend wouldn’t be sobbing into his jacket the night before he’s sent to harvest camp._

_In that moment, it hits him. After tonight, Yahaba will never see Yuda again. He always knew, but he never understood what that meant until right then._

_So, sitting on the floor of the bathroom, still hugging his best friend, Yahaba lets a few tears of his own fall._

 

Yahaba clenches his fist. No matter what his younger self thought, there were things he could have done, even at the end. He could have encouraged Yuda to run, to preserve himself instead of submitting quietly like he was trained to do his whole life.

A part of him wishes Yuda could have been more like Kyoutani. Self aware enough to realize he was being used, brave enough to run away. But it’s pointless to dwell on what could have been. Irihata helped him realize that. There was only the future, and moving forward with a resolve to be better the next time around.

_I’ll avenge you, Yuda. I promise._

“We’re here.”

Yahaba looks out the window. He knows this area as well as the back of his own hand. At the corner of this street is the town Juvey Station.

Watari tosses something into his lap. Black leather. Yahaba wonders where he got them. "Can't have them taking our prints," he says with a wink. 

Yahaba pulls on the gloves, fingers stretching around the taught material. They're the slightest bit small, constricting his wrists. 

God. They’re really doing this.

Iwaizumi turns around. “Everyone clear on the plan?”

They all nod.

“Good.”

After staking out the station for the last few days, Kyoutani had figured out the Juvey’s schedules and habits. At one in the morning, there were only two cops in the station - one at the front desk, and one guarding the holding cell.

1:03 A.M. They watch as one Juvey cop heads out, indicating that only two are left inside.

Iwaizumi grabs his pan and holds it up like a sword before battle. “Alright - let’s head out.”

All four of them leap out of the car, Iwaizumi and Watari heading one way while Yahaba and Kyoutani head the other. They take the back alley and sneak up behind station. For a bulky guy, Kyoutani moves as quietly as a mouse. That isn’t new information - Yahaba can’t count the number of times Kyoutani had inadvertently snuck up on him at the memoratorium. It was just one more annoying thing about him.

“I can’t believe I’m stuck with you,” Yahaba mumbles.

Kyoutani shoves him lightly. Yahaba shoves him back.

Yahaba should have argued harder against the plan. Or at least, Kyoutani being here. What if everything went wrong? What if the Juvies overpowered them? What if they were caught? Kyoutani would be sent to harvest camp, and Yahaba would never see him again. And as annoying as Kyoutani is...Yahaba thinks he would miss him. Just a little. 

They find the back door to the Juvey station and position themselves on either side of it. Right about now, Watari should be disabling the security cameras. Once the cameras are disabled, Iwaizumi will cause a distraction so Yahaba and Kyoutani can easily sneak in the back way and let out whatever unwinds are in the holding cell.

Yahaba glances at the door knob. It’s a simple key lock, like Kyoutani said it would be. He’s surprised that a Juvey station would have such poor security. But then again, who would mess with the Juvies in the first place? Anyone desperate enough to take them on is trying to get out, not in.

Yahaba takes a shaky breath and reaches in his pocket and thumbs the lock pick he’d purchased last week. His heart thunders in his chest so rapidly and loudly that Yahaba’s surprised Kyoutani can’t hear it.

A clanking comes from above them. Yahaba looks up. The shadow of a shaved head peaks over the roof. Watari’s arm extends and gives them a thumbs up.

“Watch my back,” he whispers to Kyoutani. Kyoutani grunts in response.

He kneels in front of the door pulls out the lock pick. His hand shakes as he fumbles the small piece of metal, hands moving awkwardly in the gloves. Shit, he’s rehearsed this twenty times after learning from a Youtube video, but apparently it wasn’t enough because this door is completely different than what he’s used to and god was this a horrible idea in the first place -

 _Click._ The lock gives.

Yahaba sighs in relief. He tucks the lock pick into his pocket and turns the knob. The door opens an inch before stopping in its tracks. He spots the chain lock holding the door closed from the inside and curses under his breath.

 _Think think think._ He’d read about keyed chain locks when he was doing his research, there was a way to get around them -

“Move.”

“Wait - ”

Kyoutani pushes Yahaba aside and rams his foot against the door. The door trembles under the pressure, but doesn’t budge. Kyoutani lifts his leg up and kicks it again, harder this time. This time, the lock snaps and door flies open.

Yahaba’s face feels hot. He’ll admit, he’s impressed.

Kyoutani yanks his hand. “Stop standing there like a dumbass, let’s go!”

“R-right.”

Before they even walk inside, shouts sound through the doorway. Iwaizumi must be doing his job. Kyoutani’s hand still wrapped around his, they walk inside, surveying the scene around them.

At the front of the station, Iwaizumi has the two Juvey cops distracted. Both their tranq guns are tossed to the side, and Iwaizumi blocks them from reaching them. Yahaba winces as Iwaizumi’s frying pan connects with one of the cop’s faces.

To their left is a huge weapons case where the Juvies must keep their tranq guns. In the middle, a set up of desks like any average office space. To their right is a holding cell, a room with a clear window for a wall. Inside, two boys restrained by handcuffs fidget by the door, trying to take advantage of the chaotic situation and get out, probably. One of them with messy black hair and thick eyebrows looks up and sees Yahaba. He holds up his chained hands and shrugs, asking for help.

Yahaba dives for the door and jams the lock pick in the keyhole. While Yahaba works the lock open, Kyoutani heads for Iwaizumi to help him out. Shouts and grunts from behind him keep making him jump. His hands shake around the door handle.

“Hurry up!” Iwaizumi shouts. Yahaba knows he’s talking to him. He looks up and meets the gazes of the two unwinds inside. They smile at him hopefully, giving him a thumbs up.

He takes a deep breath and forces himself to concentrate.

_Click._

“Got it!”

He throws open the door and the unwinds come running out. The one with the eyebrows slaps him on the back. “Thanks man, I thought we were goners for sure.”

Yahaba beams. “No problem.” The rush of adrenaline he gets from from opening the door makes all of this worth it. These two unwinds in front of him are tangible proof of his work. But the job’s not done yet.

“There’s a bald guy outside waiting for you,” Yahaba tells them. “He’ll take you to our getaway car. I’ll follow you in a moment.”

The one with pink hair gives him finger guns. Hand in hand, the two unwinds-turned-AWOLs run out the door.

Yahaba sighs. One more thing to do before they’re out of here. Though they all tried to assure Iwaizumi that rescuing unwinds was enough, Iwaizumi demanded they take advantage of the situation. Apparently he had taken inspiration from the Akron AWOL.

He turns toward the case of weapons on his left. Another lock. But this one’s different - it’s a biolock.

_Shit, we aren’t prepared for -_

A blur of blonde flashes by him and rams into the case. Yahaba’s hands fly to his ear at the grating sound of metal clanging on metal. “What are you - !”

Yahaba blinks and the biolock is on the ground. Standing over it with Iwaizumi’s frying pan is Kyoutani.

“Oh. That works.”

Kyoutani forces the doors of the case open and flings half a dozen tranq guns at Yahaba. A few fall to the ground as Yahaba scrambles to catch them all. “Jesus, thanks for the warning.”

“You’re welcome,” Kyoutani says while he grabs another bundle of weapons.

Yahaba turns around to check on Iwaizumi. One of the Juvies is lying on the floor, knocked out. Iwaizumi punches the remaining Juvey in the throat. Yahaba yells to Iwaizumi, “Time to go!”

“You two get out of here. I’ll be right after you!” Iwaizumi shouts. He ducks under the Juvey’s right hook. “Just have to finish this guy off!”

Yahaba doesn’t think twice before heading for the back door. He pushes Kyoutani ahead of him. “Go go go!”

He nearly runs into him when Kyoutani comes to an abrupt stop. “Dammit Kyoutani, what’s wrong?” He follows Kyoutani’s gaze to a door on their left that reads, “EMPLOYEES ONLY.”

“That’s where the unwind database is,” Kyoutani says, tone heavy with awe.

“I - what?”

Kyoutani turns around the face him. “I’m gonna go in there,” he says.

“What? No, that’s stupid - ”

But Kyoutani’s already dropped his weapons. Another blink and he’s barging through the door.

“Shit.” _That idiot is going to get himself killed!_

He glances back at Iwaizumi and down at the weapons in his arms and lets out a frustrated groan. Iwaizumi’s still handling the cop, but his movements are slowing and Yahaba can hear him panting from here. He won’t last much longer. “Kyoutani! Let’s _go!”_

_Smash!_

Yahaba drops his weapons. Oh god. By the sound of it, Kyoutani was wrecking everything in there.

Before Yahaba can drag Kyoutani out, he catches a flash of navy and red on the edge of his vision. The Juvey Iwaizumi had knocked out flies toward the 'EMPLOYEES ONLY' room, bloody fists out and ready to do damage.

Yahaba doesn’t think. He snatches up a tranq gun from the pile below him, points it at the Juvey, and fires.

The bullet hits the cop in the thigh. He stops in his tracks, turns to Yahaba, and passes out with his eyes still wide in shock.

 _Holy shit. Holy shit I shot a goddam Juvey cop._ If there was a point of no return for all this rebel business, this was it.

The sound of smashing stops. Kyoutani steps out of the room, looking between Yahaba and the gun in his hand.

“You’re welcome,” Yahaba says. As much as he wants to revel in this moment, the sound of fighting behind him pulls him out of his trance.

He turns around and points the tranq gun at the cop Iwaizumi is fighting. But they’re too far away, too close to each other for Yahaba to be confident in his aim. He only hit the first cop because of luck and proximity.  

“Go!” Iwaizumi shouts.

“But - ”

“Just go!”

Yahaba nudges Kyoutani’s arm and heads out the back door. “Come on.”

“No.” He grabs a gun off the top of Yahaba’s pile and runs toward the entrance. He vaults over the front desk and onto the Juvey cop’s shoulders. They fall to the ground and Kyoutani sticks the muzzle of the tranq gun into the Juvey’s shoulder and shoots. Instantly, she stills.

Sirens sound from down the street.

Kyoutani peels himself off the Juvey cop, arms shaking. Iwaizumi offers a hand and pulls him to his feet. “I told you guys I’d be fine!” Iwaizumi barks.

Kyoutani shies away, as taken aback by Iwaizumi’s anger as Yahaba is.

“Nevermind. I just - you know what? Thanks.” He pushes Kyoutani towards Yahaba. “You guys go ahead, I’ll be right there.”

“But - ”

“Just go!”

Yahaba and Kyoutani look at each other. He can see the hesitation in Kyoutani’s eyes, he knows he doesn’t want to go.

The sirens ring louder.

Yahaba nudges him. “C’mon.”

Reluctantly, Kyoutani follows him. The snatch up the weapons they dropped and head out the back door of the station. They jog towards the car, keeping to the shadows, careful not to jostle the guns too much.

“Hey.” Kyoutani says. His voice bites through the quiet night like a bullet through the thigh. “When you shot the Juvey...that was pretty badass.”

Yahaba freezes on the spot. Kyoutani has never complimented him before. Or even said anything nice to him. “T-thanks.”

As much as Kyoutani annoys him, he doesn’t hate the ex-tithe. He can’t hate someone who fends for himself like a lone wolf, or shows so more strength and insight than almost anyone else his age, or looks so cute when he pouts. And now, after risking so much together, Yahaba feels a kind of camaraderie with him. He thinks they make a decent team.

“You were pretty badass, too,” Yahaba says. “Kicking down doors and helping Iwaizumi at the end.”

“...thanks.”

The smell of smoke permeates the air as they hop into Irihata’s truck. The musty aroma only serves as a metaphor for the fire in his heart. As much as he hates to admit it, it feels good. Iwaizumi was right. Giving meals to wayward teens was gratifying, but there was something much more satisfying about having achieved a tangible goal. He’s proud, and he hope he’s made his friends proud, too.

_How do you like that, Yuda?_

 

 

  
**Sugawara Koushi**

_(Nov. 11)_

 

For the first time in weeks, Suga is excited. Karasuno has a mission. They’re going back into Taihaku. They’re getting more people out.

They haven’t rescued anyone since Hinata, and that was more than a month ago. This time they’re infiltrating the girls’ dorms. Now that they had Kiyoko, they wouldn’t be going in blind. New plans had been drawn up, ones that would make this mission smoother than any of the others. After this long without Karasuno attacking, the security would be caught off guard. This mission is going to be successful. Suga can feel it.

Once again, Suga finds himself in front of the mirror in his room, inspecting his appearance before the mission. A ranq gun - stolen from a Taihaku guard by yours truly - is strapped to his side, a taser on his other side. Infiltration plans and security guard’s shift schedules are stuffed in his back pocket, though he’s had both memorized for a week. A tube of black face paint hangs in his front pocket.

He pulls out the tube and squirts a smidge of paint onto the tip of his pointer finger. He smears it in a thick black line across his left cheek, then repeats the same on his right. He looks like a soldier from those American war movies he always used to watch.

He’s ready. He’s more ready than he’s ever felt -

_Dead-eyed stares of other children. A scenic view of the mountains. Boy-girl dorms. The smell of antiseptic that doesn’t quite cover the stench of blood. Tubes shoved into him. Half a dozen yellow-masked faces hover over him with shiny tools -_

Suga would never tell Daichi or any of the others, but every time he went back to Taihaku, his anxiety spiked. He needed to go on missions to prove himself, but every time he went back, memories of his time there leaked from his brain and seeped into his muscles and bones, paralyzing him and shaking him to his very core.

It wasn’t too hard to hide it the first few times, but Suga had nearly broken down the last time he went. HE had a panic attack the moment they exited the building. The visions were getting more frequent, his metaphoric comments slipping past his lips more often. Wasn’t trauma supposed to heal with time? Shouldn’t he be getting better, not worse?

He traces an invisible line on his forearm, following it up his elbow along his bicep until his skin disappears under his sleeve.

“Jiggsaw puzzle...shattered pottery...loose threads…”

He stares at his face. The stripes of paint only offer him minimal coverage, covering imaginary faults in his skin. _Is it as broken as the rest of me?_ He squints, peering closer into the mirror at his irises. The rings around his eyes, they look like -

“Suga, we’re heading off soon.”

Suga jolts. In the mirror, he makes eye contact with Daichi. He smiles that soft smile that drives Suga mad for two completely different reasons. One: because it’s his pity smile, but two: his pity smile is so goddamn cute.

Suga turns around. “Ready!” he announces. He tucks his feelings in a pocket with the tube of black paint for after they’ve completed their mission.

“What are you - ” Daichi stops mid-sentence and steps up to him, reaching a hand out for his face. “Whoa, what’s with the face paint?”

Suga steps out of his reach. “Stop, you’re going to ruin it.” Why was Daichi so surprised? He always wore face paint when they went on missions.

Daichi’s face falls. “Suga, you’re not going on the mission.”

“Yes I am.”  

“Suga. You’re not going.” Daichi crosses his arms and gives him the glare that always frightened the other Karasuno members into line. It never worked on Suga. “I thought we talked about this,” he hisses under his breath.

He remembers having an argument similar to this a few days ago. “Yeah, you said I probably shouldn’t go, and I said fuck that,” Suga says. “Your point?”

The door to his room swings open and three heads pop in. “Hey, what’s the hold uh - oh,” Tanaka stops talking as soon as he sees Suga. He, Noya, and Asahi linger by the door, shrinking back once they realize what they’ve interrupted.

Daichi ignores them. “Suga - ”

“I’m the only one who knows that layout - ”

“No you aren’t.”

“Yes I - ”

“We have a team of people who know the layout. They’ve been in longer and more recently than you have. Can you please put your trust in us?”

“We’ll be just fine!” Tanaka assures.

“We got this, Suga-san!” Noya says. He elbows Asahi in the side.

“They’ll be fine,” he adds.

But they don’t understand, because it’s not about them being fine. Suga has complete confidence in their little crew, he knows they can do it without him, as much as it hurts to admit it.

It’s not about succeeding. It’s about doing something _himself_. 

As Suga processes those thoughts, he realizes how selfish he’s being.

Daichi’s right, Suga knows he’s right, they don’t need him, but he wants to do something so badly, he wants to be _useful_ again. He wants to go on this mission to show himself he’s in control.

“I _know!”_ Suga shouts. “I know you can do it but I want to help too!”

“You’re not in a good state of mind right now and this is just going it make it worse,” Daichi says.

“Shut UP!”

“Suga!” Daichi surges forward and grabs his arms, holding him so they’re nose to nose. Suga’s skin crawls. “I know going on these missions stresses you out! In case you’ve forgotten, what we do is dangerous, and if you’re not up for the job you could get yourself hurt, or worse - captured. You’ll be putting everyone else at risk if you can’t do your job - ”

“But I _can!_ I _can_ do it!” Suga shouts, spit flying in Daichi’s face. “I’m - I - a dark horse! Rosie the Riveter! The little engine that could! Gimme a lotto ticket and I’ll win the million!”

The moment he realizes he’s spewing nonsense, Suga sews his mouth shut. His tingles uncomfortably under the stares everyone’s giving him. He’s just proved Daichi’s point - he’s not in control of himself.

Daichi lets go of him, and Suga slinks back until he bumps against the mirror. He hugs himself, rubbing his arms and trying to get rid of that awful feeling.

“Noya, Tanaka - get Kiyoko and Kageyama,” Daichi says, still watching Suga. “We’ll head out in five.”

“Yessir!” They scurry away, leaving just Daichi, Suga, and Asahi.

“Asahi...help Suga clean up.”

Asahi nods, and hurries after them.

Suga slides down until his butt hits the floor. He down at his lap, and starts tearing the combat boots off his feet. He throws one across the room.

“We’re going, now,” Daichi says.

Suga throws the other boot just past Daichi’s head.

“I’m sorry. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

Suga grits his teeth together. “I’m already hurt.”

Unable to respond, Daichi exits the room, leaving Suga alone. The moment he’s gone, tears well up in his eyes and fall down his cheeks. _I_ __’_ m not enough, I’m broken, shards of glass and cracked screens and mutiny of the body - _

Asahi finds him a few minutes later angrily scrubbing the black paint from his face. “Oh dear…”

The tears fall harder. He refuses to look at Asahi; his face is probably a mess of black right now, smudged all over his face and hands, streaked with tear marks and snot.

Asahi kneels down by Suga’s side and offers up a damp washcloth. “You’ll feel better once you wash this off.”

Suga sniffles, the bubbly sound of snot dripping into his throat.

Asahi leans closer and gently wipes the paint from his face. He dabs his cheek, his chin, his forehead, but Suga can’t stop the flowing of tears, which no doubt make the mess of his face harder to clean up.

“Wh-why is this happening?” Suga asks. He’s not sure if he’s asking Asahi or Karasuno or some god. He doesn’t care - he just wants an answer.

“I don’t know,” Asahi says. Even his calming voice doesn’t soothe him.

Turmoil in his gut, robbed of control, infinite questions without any answers, it’s too much, it’s just too much -

Suga pushes Asahi away and curls in on himself. “What’s _wrong_ with me?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank yall for your support!! i can't tell you how motivating it is to hear from you!!
> 
> oh hey let's do a fun thing: in the comments, summarize oob as horribly as you can. just. the fucking worst summary you can think of


	18. Spotlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iwaizumi Hajime gets kicked out. Ukai Keishin gets a new nickname. Bokuto Koutarou eats cardboard, but not really, it just feels like it. Tsukishima Kei is exactly 2.3 centimeters taller than his brother, than you very much. Kindaichi Yuutarou isn’t dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALL OF YOUR SUMMARIES WERE HILARIOUS AND GORGEOUS AND I LOVED READING ALL OF THEM THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU deadass yall wrote better summaries than i did 
> 
> switching gears to a more personal note: in hs a two page essay would take me a week, and a 3k fanfic took two weeks. now in addition to working on 2 multichap fanfics, i'm gonna be writing a 5 page essay plus a 2+ page story every week. im both astounded by my progress and horrified by my workload

**lvi. Iwaizumi Hajime**

_(Nov. 12)_

 

When Irihata asked all of them to gather around the table the next morning, Iwaizumi knew they were fucked. Everything that had gone right and wrong last night, and this was how they were caught.

He sits at the end of the table, Kyoutani, Watari, and Yahaba to his left, the new AWOLs, Matsukawa and Hanamaki, to his right. The scene is painted with various shades of shame; Yahaba staring blankly at his feet, Watari looking at his nails, Matsukawa tapping his fingers together.

Not Iwaizumi. He’s not ashamed, and he can’t understand why the others are.

Irihata stands at the head of the table, eyeing each of them. When nobody talks, he pulls out a laptop and faces it toward them. It’s an article, from a local newspaper. The headline reads: SURPRISE ATTACK LEAVES JUVEY STATION DEVASTATED. Below it is a picture of a blackened building.

“A group of teenage boys assaults a Juvey station. A group of teenage boys sits in my living room,” Irihata snaps. Never did Iwaizumi imagine such a venomous sound could come from this gentle old man. “Two unwinds escape from a Juvey station. Two unwinds appear in my house. My car comes back, covered in ash from a fire - ”

Yahaba yanks the laptop out of Irihata’s hands. He scrolls through it, raised brows sinking down in anger. “You set the place on _fire?”_ he spits at Iwaizumi.

So maybe Iwaizumi hadn’t told the others every part of his plan. It was for their own good - if they had known what he was going to do, they would have stopped him. It _had_ to be done. They had to send a message. That’s the only way they’ll get through to the Juvies.

“I did,” he says, figuring there’s no point in denying it. All of them give him wary, disapproving looks - even the new AWOLs. Just like he knew they would. He doesn’t let it get to him. Yahaba and Watari could never understand because they weren’t unwinds, and Matsukawa and Hanamaki’s papers had just been signed, they don't understand the cards they've been dealt.

He looks to Kyoutani, the only one who’d suffered as Iwaizumi had. He looks at Iwaizumi in awe. _That’s right,_ he reminds himself. _Only a real AWOL would understand._

“Why?” Watari asks. The disappointment in his tone pinches at Iwaizumi’s conscience. “Those cops - they could have gotten hurt.”

“But they weren’t,” Iwaizumi says.

Yahaba snarls. “They could have been.”

 _“We_ could have been,” Iwaizumi protests. “We could have been hurt, by them. Hell, we _have_ been hurt. How many AWOLs have they captured and sent to harvest camp?”

Yahaba backs down. Iwaizumi doesn’t understand him. He was so proud of Yahaba last night, watching him free Matsukawa and Hanamaki and save Kyoutani. Even though he had his reservations, he had proved useful. Why was he backing out now, when he had already taken so many steps forward?  

“You’re right. You could have gotten hurt,” Irihata says. He takes the laptop back and closes it. “That’s why you shouldn’t be doing this. This is a matter for adults to handle.”

Iwaizumi rises to his feet, his chair squeaking as it slides out from under him. “Adults are the ones who fucked this up in the first place!” he shouts.

“But you’re _children_ ,” Irihata says.

“That’s the point,” Iwaizumi says, pointing a thumb at himself. _“We’re_ the ones who are affected. It’s _our_ future, I’m not going to sit back and leave it up to the people who only seem to care _after_ a child is unwound.”

Irihata takes a step back, as if Iwaizumi’s insult had physically hit him.

Iwaizumi holds his ground, despite his shaking legs. He’s never talked back to an elder before, let alone yelled at one. It feels wrong, but it also feels good to wield this power.

Irihata’s eyes flash in anger. “I will not tolerate child soldiers,” he says. He points to the door. “Get out.”

He doesn’t think about the consequences. He doesn’t think about the other pairs of eyes on him, or Irihata’s judgement or how he’ll get his next meal. He only has one thought: he isn’t going to let some adult who knows nothing about him dictate his life again.  

Iwaizumi kicks his chair over. “Have it your way, old man.” He marches toward the door, fists clenching and unclenching. Who gives a shit about him, Iwaizumi can do this on his own -

A chair squeak across the floor. “Wait.”

Iwaizumi pauses by the doorframe and looks over his shoulder. Kyoutani walks over to his side. “I’m coming with you.”

Iwaizumi gives him a nod of thanks. He didn’t expect anyone to side with him, but he’s not surprised it’s Kyoutani.

He _is_ surprised when the two unwinds from last night get up and join them, too.

“Are you sure?” Iwaizumi whispers to them. “You didn’t do anything wrong, he’d probably let you stay…”

Matsukawa shrugs. “They’ll be looking for us, and we don’t want to put the old man in danger.”

“Yeah,” Hanamaki says. “We appreciate what you did for us - we’re with you, man.”

“And staying here doesn’t sound like any fun.”

He’s satisfied; this is a good team. Iwaizumi could keep making a difference with this group.

“I’m going, too.”

This time, Iwaizumi turns around, stunned at the scene before him: Watari, not a tithe, not an AWOL, standing in solidarity with him.

Yahaba looks at him, eyebrows raised in shock. “Watari - why - ”

“We’re already in this, Yahaba,” Watari says. He walks over to Iwaizumi’s group and pats Kyoutani on the shoulder.

The table looks empty with nearly all the chairs pulled out and abandoned. Only Yahaba and Irihata are left. Then Yahaba stands and marches over to join Iwaizumi’s group.

This betrayal is the most surprising of them all.

“Where are you going?” Irihata demands.

“I’m going with them.”

“You’re running away?”

“No!” Yahaba shouts. A hand flies over his mouth, and he sighs. “I’m just...I don’t know. I’ll be back.”

Irihata looks at a loss for words. For the first time, Iwaizumi sees signs of fear in his eyes. Yahaba had become the grandson that Irihata had had stolen away from him; Iwaizumi can’t blame him. “Yahaba. You’re putting your future in danger. You’re better than this.”

Iwaizumi bristles. The implication behind his words is obvious - you’re better than this, you’re better than _them_.

A rush of pride fills Iwaizumi as Yahaba says, “No, I’m not.” He turns his back on Irihata and mutters, “Please don’t tell my parents.”

In the minute it takes for them all to exit to room, Irihata doesn’t respond. He watches them leave in silence, callously, just like every other adult in Iwaizumi’s life.

 

He’s going to continue his revolution with this team. They’re only just getting started. By the end of it, the Juvies will be the ones running like hell.

 

 

**lvii. Ukai Keishin**

_(Nov. 14)_

 

“So. You’re the idol?”

The quiet boy in front of him doesn’t look like a idol. His hair sticks up in strange directions, dark shadows are smudged under his eyes, a few pimples dot his forehead. He sits stiffly on the edge of the chair, back straight and fingers tapping on his knees; the nervous energy of an AWOL exudes from him instead of the confident aura of a celebrity.

But of course, Ukai should have expected this. Idol or not, this boy was an AWOL.

“Yes,” the boy says.

Saeko had notified him an idol was coming. She’d called him after one of the other AWOLs had recognized him, and he was getting a lot of clearly unwanted attention. She was worried about what would happen when he got to the Court, and rightfully so - Ukai had already heard rumors about an idol on his way to the evaluation room, only a half hour after the bus of new AWOLs had arrived.

Running the Court was a delicate matter. A bunch of teenagers in a closed environment was bad enough, but to add to that, more often than not, there was a reason these kids’ parents had decided to unwind them. There was only so much he could do to keep cliques from forming and preventing disagreements from getting out of hand.

Ukai runs his hands down his face. Throwing an idol into the mix would only make this harder. This was not a problem he ever expected to deal with, and he’s not quite sure what to do about it. “I had no idea the idol industry did this kind of thing…”

“Most people don’t,” the boy says.

“You’re Keiji, from FUKURO4?” Ukai looks him up on his phone underneath the table. A flood of images of a boy in a gold suit pop up. He glances up at the boy.

Yep. That was him. He looked different without all the makeup and photoshop, but there was no doubting it.

“Please call me Akaashi,” he says.

“Alright, Akaashi. Now what are we going to do with you…” His first priority was Akaashi’s safety. Ukai didn’t want him to be harassed by over-adoring fans, or targeted by jealous people.

He calls one of the rebels into the room. “Tsukishima?”

The rebel steps into the room. “Yes sir?”

Ukai rolls his eyes. “I told you you don’t have to call me sir.”

He shrugs. “Sorry, sir. I mean, Ukai-sama.”

“Tsukishima.”

He grins and scratches the back of his neck. “Just kidding.”

“I have a job for you.” He gestures to the idol. “This is Akaashi. He used to be an idol, so while he’s here I just want to be sure he has some, uh….insurance, I guess, in case anyone gets any ideas...if you know what I mean.”

“Of course,” Tsukishima says. He flashes Akaashi a smile. “You want me to watch over him.”

“Yup.”

He walks up to Akaashi and holds out a hand. “I’m Tsukishima Akiteru, pleasure to meet you. You’re...Keiji from FUKURO4, right?” Tsukishima says.

Akaashi takes his hand warily and shakes. “I prefer to be called Akaashi.”

“You got it, Akaashi-san.”

“You don’t need to add the -san,” he says.

“How about Akaashi-chan?”

Akaashi’s lip curls in disgust. Tsukishima laughs. “Kidding! Just kidding. How about just Akaashi?”

A hint of a smile appears on his face. “Okay.” Ukai’s glad it was Tsukishima who was there - an upbeat guy like him will be good for Akaashi.

“Now, a job,” Ukai says. “Sorry, but nobody gets out of work, even if they’re an ex-idol.”

“I don’t mind,” Akaashi says. “I want to contribute.”

Another unexpected twist. Ukai thought all idols were stuck-up, selfish little brats, but Akaashi defied that expectation.

“Any preferences?”

“I’d like to do something away from people,” Akaashi says. “Where I can be alone most of the time.”

That makes sense. Ukai taps his chin, running through the job list in front of him. An idea strikes him. There were drawbacks to Akaashi's idol status, but there were benefits, too. “Well, you could clean toilets…”

Ukai looks for a reaction, but Akaashi doesn’t even flinch.

“...or, if you’re up for it, you could put on performances.”

Akaashi blinks. “You have concerts here?” he asks.

Ukai shrugs. “Not normally. But this is isn’t a prison. I think some live music would really lift everyone’s spirits.”

Akaashi considers the proposition, hunching over and rubbing his arms. “I don’t know…”

“Think about it,” Ukai says. “We could get you a costume, a guitar, or bass or whatever you play...”

Akaashi’s eyes light up at that.

“You don’t need to make a decision yet,” Ukai says, not wanting to rush him. “Just come to me if you ever want a change. But until then...bathroom cleanup it is.”

Akaashi smiles. He stands up and bows. “Thank you, Ukai-sama.”

Ukai blushes, and waves his hands back and forth. “There’s no need to - ”

He stops himself when he sees a glint of mischief in Akaashi’s eyes. He grins. “You’re welcome, Akaashi-chan,” he says.

With that final exchange, he ushers Akaashi and Tsukishima out, and waits for the next kid to come in.

He leans back in his chair, folding his arms behind his head. He’s a nice kid, Ukai decides. Running the safehouse was exhausting, but seeing kids like that always motivated him.

He sighs, hovering back over his desk. Twenty more kids left to evaluate. He’d need all the motivation he could get.

  


**lviii. Bokuto Koutarou**

_(Nov. 14)_

 

His hands constantly run across cardboard boxes and it’s making his skin dry. But there’s breaks in the cardboard where the packing tape is and it’s smooth and nice and it annoyed Bokuto at first but now he doesn’t mind. But he does mind his dry hands. And the air is stuffy. It makes Bokuto’s nostrils feel crusty and gross. Is there any tissue around here? Maybe there’s some in the bathroom. The bathrooms here are a lot nicer than Bokuto would have expected but the nearest one is a five minute walk away and he doesn’t know if it’s worth it to leave just to blow his nose. What if the others get mad at him because he’s gone too long? Plus there wouldn’t even be anything to blow because his snot is stuck to the side of his nostrils so -

“...bring these up to…”

“...shipment arriving, but it’s running late…”

“...basketballs? I thought they ordered volleyballs - ”

 _Clank, clank, clank._ The stairs creak as Bokuto climbs them. Are his footfalls really that heavy? Maybe it’s his new shoes. They’re workboots, and they look like the Monopoly shoe, so Bokuto likes them. They’re his lucky shoes now.

“Bokuto? Where are you - ”

“I’m coming, I’m coming!”

The third floor of the warehouse is _really_ busy. A dozen drones are lined up in a really straight row and there’s a couple of kids tweaking with them. There’s one that’s blades are completely twisted, facing the wrong direction and everything, and there are scratches all over it -

A pair of strong hands steers him the other way. “Dude. We’re going this way.”

“Yeah I know I know, but did you see that drone?” Bokuto says. “It was all messed up! I wonder what happened to it. What do you think - ”

Kamasaki drags him the other way. Kamasaki was assigned to the same job as him so they helped each other out with stuff. Well, it was mostly Kamasaki helping him. Only with staying focused though - Bokuto was proud to say he could lift more boxes than anyone else. He knows because they had a contest the other day. Kamasaki demanded a rematch. But he lost that one, too.

“Hey ‘saki, remember when we had the lifting competition? And I beat you?”

“Bo - ”

“Twice?”

Kamasaki grits his teeth together. “I have no clue what you’re talking about. Look, we have a job to do.”

That’s right - he was called up here to load this round of drones with the latest shipments. “Right, I know, there’s just a lot of cool stuff happening.” A drone warehouse? How cool is that? How could anyone expect him to focus when there's so many cool things happening?

Bokuto heads toward the elevator where the carts are waiting. He pulls it over to its assigned drone and starts stacking the boxes on the launch pad, where the drone’s hammock is. His hands feel dry and itchy again.

Kamasaki comes up and starts helping him. “Oh, thanks!”

He smiles at him, and takes a box out of his hands.

“Do your hands ever get dry from carrying all these boxes?” Bokuto asks. “Cuz mine do and it feels kinda weird. I actually - ”

A whirring sound comes from behind him. Bokuto looks around. They’re testing one of the drones. _Not important, not important._ But the sound is really distracting, and Bokuto can’t help but keep glancing around.

Kamasaki pats him on the back. “You okay?”

“Sorry. They were just testing that drone and - ” He’s rambling again. This time he catches himself, and he presses his lips closed and holds out his hands for another box. Kamasaki gives him a weird look but hands it to him anyway.

Stacking all these boxes reminds him of the cardboard castle he made at that safehouse. Man, he was pretty proud of castle. Even Akaashi had been impressed with it, even if he hadn’t admitted it.

The box he’s holding feels heavier.

Oh crap. That reminds him of Akaashi. He’d done a pretty good job of not thinking about Akaashi and now he thinking about him and what would Kenma and Kuroo say? They were doing such a good job of making him feel better about it -

_Whooooosh!_

Bokuto whips around, box flying from his hands.

“Ouch! Shit!”

He turns back around just in time to see Kamasaki stumble into the tower of boxes, thrown off balance by the box that hit his knee, and knock everything down. Now the boxes on the hammock are all toppled over, and Kamasaki lies on the ground in the middle of them. Kamasaki rubs his knee. “...dude.”

Bokuto’s hands fly to his mouth.“OhmygodI’msosorry!”

Bokuto hasn’t experienced this much stimulation since...well, since before the safehouses. He hadn’t realized how much of a crutch the safe houses were. Yeah, it was boring as hell, but being with so few people with such little noise wasn’t too bad compared to this. It was too much and Bokuto’s having more trouble adjusting than he thought he would and he _already_ thought he’d have a difficult time because he isn’t stupid. 

He helps Kamasaki to his feet. “I’m really sorry, it’s just - ”

“Why don’t you take a break?” Kamasaki says.

Bokuto bites his lip. “Yeah, okay, sure, I probably need to take a break anyway. I’m sorry - ”

“It’s fine!” Kamasaki says, hand still hovering over his knee. “It’s fine…”

But it’s not fine and Bokuto knows it. He’s messing up, he’s being useless again. This is what got him unwound in the first place, his brain is running too fast and he can’t catch up and now he’s messing up his only chance at normal.

This only proves his parents right. He can’t do anything right.

 

“Hey Bokuto? Bokutoooooo?”

Bokuto ignores Kuroo, continuing to play with his noodles. Lunch today was ramen. Again. It tastes like cardboard in his mouth. Ugh. He’s sick of cardboard.

And he’s sick of voices. There’s so many people talking in the cafeteria, Bokuto wants to cover his ears and yell at them to shut up.

Kuroo pokes him with the back of his chopstick. “What’s wrong, bro?”

He slumps forward and buries his head in his arms. After this morning, he feels awful. It’s one of his moods coming on, he knows it, but he can’t help it.

“...please just stop talking.”

He doesn’t hear anything else out of Kuroo’s mouth, or Kenma’s, just the clack of utensils. And the shuffle of shoes as people walk past. And the squeak of chairs as they’re pushed in and out. And the conversations of the people around them.

“...ketchup on a bun. Not even a hotdog. Just ketchup...”

“...the fuck is wrong with you?”

“...idol who I used to follow…”

His ears perk up.

“...going to be here! He’s AWOL, like us…”

He sits up straight, but the thread of conversation is lost in the tapestry of voices. He turns around and strains his ears, trying to pick up on that bit of conversation again.

“...s an idol, I swear!”

Bokuto whips around and pinpoints who was talking. _There!_ There’s a couple of girls sitting at a table behind them, picking at their ramen.

“Did you say idol?” he asks.

The girls jump in surprise. But the one who was talking lights up. “Yeah, it’s legit! Keiji from FUKURO4!” she says. “I swear! I stayed in a safehouse with one of the girls who came on the bus with him.”

“I wonder if he’s as pretty in person as he is on the stage,” one girl says.

 _He is!_ Bokuto nearly blurts.

“We can ask him who which member he was really dating,” the other says. “My bets are on Konoha.”

“Please. It was that Daishou guy from Hebimeta. Did you even see the sexual tension in those group photos?”

 _Oh my god, Akaashi’s really coming! Kenma was right!_ Bokuto can’t wait to see him. It’s been nearly a month since he saw him, which is weird because they only really knew each other for the month before that, but the point was he was back and Bokuto would get to see him again.

He turns back to Kuroo and Kenma. “Did you hear that?” he says. “Akaashi’s coming here!”

Kenma gives him a small smile. “Told you.”

“Yeah bro!” Kuroo pokes him again with his chopstick. “That’s great news!”

Bokuto nods. “It is great news, it’s really great new, it - ”

It was really great news for Bokuto, but what if it wasn’t for Akaashi? The last words they had exchanged...was their fake break up. Would Akaashi even want to see him? That meant Akaashi didn’t want to see him again, right?

That’s right, there was no way Akaashi would want to see him. He was useless, he had probably annoyed Akaashi just like he annoyed the people he was working with this morning. No wonder Akaashi had fake broken up with him.

He catches Kuroo’s eye, and he remembers what Kuroo and Kenma told him. How it’s not his fault. Akaashi hadn’t left because of what Bokuto did, it was just because Akaashi was working through his own feelings. He repeats the words over and over in his head.

_It’s not my fault._

_It’s not my fault._

_It’s not my fault._

“It’s not my fault, but what if he still doesn’t want to see me?” Bokuto asks. He’s not sure if he’s talking to Kuroo and Kenma or just voicing his thoughts.

Kuroo and Kenma give each other a look. “He’ll want to see you,” Kuroo says.

“But - ”

“See look, there he is, I told you!”

The muttering in the room gets louder as a rebel worker walks into the cafeteria, followed by a tall boy with dark curly hair. _It’s him. It’s really him. Shit, I’m not ready -_

Akaashi looks even worse off that when Bokuto last saw him. He’s thinner, and the circles around his eyes are darker. But he holds his head higher, and walks with his shoulders square. He looks regal, like a king.

Bokuto wants to stand up. He wants to shout to Akaashi and run towards him and give him a big hug and tells him how much he missed him.

He clenches his hands around the table to keep himself in place. No, Kenma was right, he should wait for Akaashi to make a move -

“What are you all looking at?” the rebel worker shouts. Even with his hands on his hips in his khakis jumpsuit, he doesn’t sound that intimidating. But his voice echoes loud enough that the room falls silent. “Go back to eating your delicious ramen!”

Everyone turns back to their meals, but they all sneak glances when they think the rebel worker isn’t looking.

“Dude.” Kuroo pokes him again. “What are you waiting for? Go up there and say hi.”

“I don’t know…”

He discreetly watches Akaashi as he goes through the cafeteria line. Akaashi keeps glancing around, staring back at the crowd, even as the rebel worker talks to someone.

“I bet he’s looking for someone,” Kuroo says.

“Obviously,” Kenma says. “He’s looking for Bokuto.”

“You really think so?” Bokuto asks.

“Who else would he be looking for?”

“He could be looking for his bandmates, we ran into Kaori so he might be looking for her, or maybe he’s looking for one of the others we met at the safe houses. Oh! Maybe he’s looking for _you_ \- ”

“That was a rhetorical question.”

“Oh.”

Akaashi continues his searching. Bokuto knows he should probably look away but he can’t tear his eyes off of Akaashi, not after he hasn’t seen him for so long -

“Bokuto-san!”

Bokuto blinks. He was so focused on Akaashi he’s seen right past him. And now Akaashi spotted him, and he was heading toward him. The rebel worker jogs after him. “Akaashi, uh, wait up maybe please…”

He can’t help but feel a rush of joy. Bokuto jumps to his feet as Akaashi comes crashing into him. Hands wrap around his torso as Akaashi butts his head into Bokuto’s chest. Bokuto hugs him back, and just for a moment, everything is silent, and all of his focus is on Akaashi’s warmth. He's smiling he can't stop smiling because man he's _so happy_ to see Akaashi again.

After a moment, they break apart, Bokuto’s arms still on Akaashi’s arms to remind him he’s real, this is really happening, Akaashi hugged him so he _couldn’t_ hate him.

“You’re here,” Akaashi says, eyes smiling.

Bokuto can feel a hundred eyes on him; everyone in the cafeteria must be staring at them.

But Bokuto doesn’t care - he only cares about one set of eyes, the emerald green ones that are staring right back at him.

“So are you! Akaashi I - ”

Akaashi puts a finger to his lips. That doesn’t stop him from grinning. “I have something to tell you.” He glances around. “But can we go somewhere more private?”

Bokuto nods vigorously.

Oh god what does he want to talk about? He hopes it’s not bad, but it’s probably not bad if Akaashi looked this happy to see him.

The rebel worker who was leading Akaashi around ushers them out of the room, muttering how Akaashi shouldn’t be running off like that. Bokuto doesn’t care. He doesn’t care, he doesn’t care about the people looking at them or their gossiping as they walk between tables. He keeps sneaking glances at Akaashi, reminding himself that he’s real.

“Oh my god it’s you guys!” someone shouts. A head pops up from the crowd, a younger boy with shaggy black hair and bright black eyes. Bokuto recognizes him immediately - it’s the kid from the van!

“It’s you!” Bokuto shouts back. Crap, what was his name…!

“They’re the ones who freed that whole van of unwinds!” the boy shouts, loud enough so everyone in the cafeteria can hear him. “I know! I was on it!”

A wave of conversation rises. Snippets fly in and out his ear -

“The van incident? I thought that was just a myth.”

“No dude, I know someone who was in that van!”

“That’s incredible!”

Before he knows it, the room breaks out into applause.

Bokuto’s face turns red. The last time he’d had this many people applaud for him was during a volleyball game. Even that was different, though, because volleyball was just a game, but this was because he actually impacted other’s lives. It’s little overwhelming, but it also makes him indescribably happy.

He takes Akaashi’s hand and squeezes. Akaashi squeezes back. They lift up their hands in solidarity, and the cheers grow louder and louder until they drown out the self-doubt twisting in Bokuto’s stomach and replace it with pride.

 

The rebel leads them to a room on the fourth floor, one of the many empty computer rooms. It’s a lot cooler and quieter up here. Bokuto rubs his chapped hands together.

“Hey Akaashi? You feel safe around this guy, right?” the rebel worker asks.

“Yes,” Akaashi says. Bokuto can’t hold back a smile.

“Cool, can I disappear for like, five minutes? I’ll be right back I promise!”

“Sure.”

The rebel leaves, and it’s just the two of them in the room. The last time he’d been alone with Akaashi (or relatively alone, he guesses) was on their way to the final safe house. He doesn’t even remember what they’d been talking about, but he remembers snuggling with Akaashi. He hasn’t seen Akaashi for a whole month. What had happened between then and now? How much had he changed?

“Sorry if that was overwhelming, back in the cafeteria. I know you just got here and everything,” Bokuto says. “I never expected anyone to recognize us though! I mean I thought they would recognize you, for being an idol and stuff, but I remember that kid from the van! And he remembered us! That's crazy. I'm glad he made it here.”

"Me too," Akaashi says. “It’ll be nice to be known as someone other than an idol.”

They sit down across from each other. 

“So, uh, what did you want to say?”

As Akaashi finds the words he wants to say, Bokuto watches his hands. They sit in his lap, folded and motionless. He’s reminded of when they’d first met, in that Juvey station, when those wrists had been shackled. They hadn’t held him down, though, he didn’t let them bother him. That’s how Bokuto had known Akaashi wasn’t ready to give up - no one who held themselves with such valor had lost determination.

How much had Akaashi changed? According to the determination in his eyes, not very much at all.

Akaashi bows his head. “I’m sorry.”

Oh. That was...not what Bokuto was expecting.

“I’m sorry I took advantage of you,” Akaashi says. “I’m sorry I left you like that, it was rude and inexcusable. After the Juvies took me in, I was scared, and distrustful, and paranoid. And then when I saw I could trust you, I clung to you, because you were the only real thing I had. But I didn’t even have you, because what we had was fake and I was just using you. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness - ”

“I forgive you!” Bokuto bursts.

Akaashi looks up, eyes wide. “But - ”

“No buts!” Bokuto wags his finger in front of Akaashi’s face. “I forgive you.”

Akaashi blinks a few times. It takes Bokuto a moment to realize that he’s crying. “No one’s ever forgiven me before….”

Bokuto reaches for his hand and squeezes it. “No one’s ever said sorry to me before.”

Being without Akaashi had been hard, but forgiving him was easy. His old friends, his parents, his doctors. No one had ever apologized like that before. He remembers his mom’s voice cracking as she told him “We’re sorry,” as he was being dragged out of his home by Juvey cops. She wasn’t really sorry - if she was sorry, she would have admitted her mistake. She would have tried to fix it.

Akaashi sniffles a few times, wiping his eyes with the hand Bokuto isn’t holding.

“Besides, if you think you used me for the fake dating thing, then I _definitely_ used you too, so I should probably be apologizing too,” Bokuto says. “So - I’m sorry for using you too.”

Akaashi lets out a watery giggle. “I f-forgive you, too...Bokuto.”

That’s what their last conversation had been about - Bokuto had been trying to convince Akaashi not to use the “-san.” He can’t believe Akaashi remembered.

They sit like that for. Wow. Living at the Court will be different now that Akaashi is here. Bokuto can’t say he hasn’t considered what it might be like, but now that he’s actually here...

“Hey Akaashi?”

“Yes?”

“Do you...do you need a fake boyfriend again?”

Akaashi’s smile falters. _Oh no._ “Actually, I have been thinking about that, and I think it’s best if we just remain friends.”

“...oh.”

“It was helpful when we were in the safe houses, and we needed an excuse to stay together. But now we’re here, together, and everyone knows about me. I don’t know how much you know about idol culture, but there’s a strong fujoshi community...”

“Oh.” Bokuto was acutely aware of those kinds of fans, mostly from what Akaashi had told him when he talked about his past.

“I don’t want you to have to be subjected to that. I’m already going to have to deal with that, and I don’t want to drag you into it.”

On one hand, he understands. But on the other hand...he knows it’s selfish, but he wants to be with Akaashi again. Hadn’t Akaashi felt it too? The unspoken connection between them, the moments when fake dating didn’t feel fake anymore? The truth is, Bokuto doesn’t just want to be Akaashi’s fake boyfriend, he wants to be his real boyfriend, and he thinks Akaashi might want that too.

But he’s too afraid to bring it up. They’ve just reunited, and Akaashi’s still adjusting to the Court.

Maybe later, when Akaashi’s settled in. Maybe.

He looks up at Akaashi. His eyes are bloodshot, and it makes the green in his eyes stand out that much more. Bokuto could get lost in those eyes for hours.

“Hey ‘Kaashi?”

“Yes Bokuto?”

“Can I give you another hug?”

Akaashi smiles, a real, sincere smile. “I’d like that very much.”

  


**lviii ss. Kuroo Tetsurou**

“Wow. He didn’t even notice us. I can’t believe it.”

“He hasn’t seen us for two months, Kuroo.”

“Still. I’m hurt.”

“Kuroo.”

“Bokuto didn’t even say goodbye or anything. Not even a nod. Just left us with his untouched ramen. Rude.”

"Deal with it."

"Kenma. _Rude."_

 

 

**lix. Tsukishima Kei**

_(Nov. 14)_

 

_Akiteru’s door is closed, like it always is. Kei knocks on it anyway._

_No answer. He presses his ear to the door, sounds of fabricated gunshots and a dramatic score easily slipping through._

_He opens the door. Akiteru sits on his bed, absorbed in his latest video game obsession, screen pressed close to his face, blabbing into his microphone. His brother doesn’t look up when he comes in. “Kei, I’m busy,” he says._

_He rolls his eyes. “I just brought you dinner.”_

_When Akiteru doesn’t answer, Kei sets the plate on his desk, next to the other empty plates from nights before. He should probably take those plates down to the kitchen...but it’s Akiteru’s problem. Mom can yell at him for that. He knows it’s petty, and that it doesn’t matter anyway, but Kei’s tired of cleaning up after his brother._

_Akiteru shoots up, fingers pounding the screen. “No no no no noooo! Dude, what the crap was that?” He groans and buries his head back in his game._

_Kei rolls his eyes, and his gaze falls to the unopened backpack sitting beside his bed, next to the untouched notebooks. Akiteru always encouraged Kei to study, though he never saw Akiteru even open a textbook._

_“Hey Akiteru?”_

_His brother doesn’t answer him. Did he even hear him? Stupid Akiteru. He was a stupid teenager now and never had time to play with Kei._

_He rolls his eyes one more time for good measure and turns to leave._

_“Thanks Kei, you’re the best!”_

_His hand pauses on the doorknob. “...yeah.” Forcing himself not to look back, he shuts the door behind him._

 

_When Kei wakes up the next morning, it’s quiet. Too quiet. He doesn’t hear the shuffle of morning rush. No mom yelling at Akiteru to get out of bed, no dad turning the house upside down to find his keys, no Akiteru knocking into walls stumbling over himself to get ready in time._

_He makes his way to the kitchen. His parents sit at the table, arms folded in front of them, bowls of fried egg and rice sitting untouched in front of them. There’s a third bowl on the table, in his usual spot. The absence of a fourth is unsettling._

_He sits down, but doesn’t touch his food._

_“Where’s Akiteru?” he asks. “He wasn’t early, was he?”_ _Akiteru’s always running late; he never leaves before eight, and he’s never early._

_“Kei.” The strain of his mother’s voice causes Kei’s gut to clench. “Your brother…”_

_When his mother doesn’t continue, his father clears his throat. “We decided to sign his unwind order.”_

_“...what.” To twelve year old Kei, the sentence doesn’t make sense. “You’re joking.”_

_His parents are silent. He sits on the edge of his seat, waiting for them to say something, but their lips are knit shut._

_“I don’t understand,” he says. Just last night, he was talking to Akiteru. Akiteru was fine, his parents weren’t making any sense._

_“It’s hard to explain,” his mother says. She reaches out for his hand but Tsukishima pulls it back, just out of her reach._

_Her patronizing words make him sick._ Hard to explain? You can’t just take him away and tell me it’s hard to explain!  _he wants to shout. He holds his mouth closed, determined to knit his lips even tighter than his parents. Cold silence blooms instead of anger. His parents fill the quiet with meaningless words._

_“He was having a hard time,” his mother tells him._

_“He was going down the wrong path,” his father says._

_“We were saving him from himself.”_

_“He’ll be happier in a divided state.”_

_“This way he’ll be saving lives. You know how he loved to help people.”_

_“Even if he never succeeded.”_

_“He loved you, Kei.”_

_He stands up, knocking his chair out from under him. He storms back to his room, muttering one word under his breath: “Pathetic.” His brother’s love was pathetic. If he really loved Kei, he would have tried to escape. He would have said goodbye. He wouldn’t have left Kei alone._

 

Pathetic.

That was his first thought when he saw Akiteru: pathetic. Tsukishima had been mourning a living man for two years. He bought a _plaque_ for him. He _cried_ for him. How pathetic. Tsukishima Kei doesn’t cry.

His second thought wasn’t a thought, but a feeling. A feeling of relief and joy and shock that was quickly overshadowed by anger, and that one word, _pathetic_.

Tsukishima leans back in his chair, stretching his fingers out on the desk. He checks the time - another half hour before dinner. Actually, dinner was being served right now, but in half an hour, everyone else will have gotten their fill and left the dining hall, meaning the rebel workers didn’t need to be there to manage the crowds anymore.

He’d managed to avoid talking to his brother for the past two weeks through well-timed meals, quick feet, and a Yamaguchi-barrier.

“Aren’t you happy he’s alive?” Yamaguchi had asked him.

_Of course I am._

“That’s not the point,” he had said, because that wasn’t the point, the point was he had been lied to, and he was embarrassed, and Akiteru never came back for him, and what did that say about his relationship with his brother?

A memory resurfaces of Hinata, who left the Court to go back to his sister. Reluctantly, he understands Hinata a little better now. And he resents him for thinking of his sister when Akiteru never thought of him.

Tsukishima combs through lines of code, trying to find the bug that’s causing the malfunction in their website. It’s written in Viper, a language he’s not as familiar with, making this task more of a hassle than it should be.

“Kei…?”

 _Shit._ What was Akiteru doing here now? He should be down in the dining hall.

Time for improvisation. He pushes himself out of his chair and heads for the door, refusing to look Akiteru in the eye. “I have to go to the bathroom.”

Akiteru steps in front of the doorway, blocking his way out. With a sense of satisfaction, he realizes he’s the slightest bit taller than his brother.

He squares his shoulders and sneers. “If you don’t move, I’m going to shit my pants.”

Akiteru straightens up and smiles. “No, you won’t.”

“Do you want to take that chance?”

“Yes.” Though his posture shows confidence, Akiteru’s hands give him away. He holds them clasped in front of him, so tight and still that his knuckles turn white. “Can you please just give me five minutes? I’ve been trying to give you space but I’m going to be a lot more busy now and I don’t know when I’m going to get the chance to talk to you again, so please just hear me out.”

Tsukishima’s still angry. He doesn’t want to see Akiteru’s face, he doesn’t want to think about him. He’s spent so long teaching himself how to do exactly that, so it comes easily now.

“Kei, please…”

Okay, so maybe it wasn’t as easy to forget about him when he’s here, in front of him.

Tsukishima sighs. “Go on.”

“I, uh...crap I didn’t actually think this through before I started talking…” Akiteru takes a deep breath, then grabs both of his shoulders. “I really miss you, Kei. I’ve missed you for a long time and when I saw you here, I was just so happy! Actually I was pretty nervous at first because I thought Mom and Dad signed your unwind order too, but then Yamaguchi cleared things up for me and I was just happy you were here, because I thought we could...you know...connect again? Be brothers again?”

 _We weren’t really brothers before,_ Tsukishima wants to say.

“And before you say anything,” Akiteru continues, “I know I was kind of a crappy brother...actually, a really crappy brother. And person. And I’m sorry for that, I really am. But I thought this was a second chance for me...and I just don’t understand why you won’t talk to me…”

Akiteru’s body loosens, holding none of the tight nerves from before, fingers now just grazing his arms. He gives him an awkward smile.  “So whatever I can do to make it up to you, anything you want, I’ll do it, I promise.”

It’s a lot to take in. Akiteru’s speech sounds like a confession, and Tsukishima isn’t sure if he can absolve him. At the same time, Akiteru’s words run over him like a fresh cold shower, snapping him awake with freezing droplets that cleanse his spirit and wash away the baggage. Maybe this is what he wanted all along: for Akiteru to chase him down and come back to him and be the family he didn’t have to hate.

He blinks the drops out of his eyes and to see his brother clearly in front of him, alive and whole, a bit of stiffness crawling back along his shoulders.

“Mom and Dad lied to me,” Tsukishima says.

Akiter’s eyes go wide. “They what?”

“They told me you were unwound.” He clenches his teeth together when his voice cracks. “I thought...I thought you were gone…”

“I...jeez. No wonder...ah, I didn’t know…” Akiteru squeezes his fingers, pinching Kei’s shoulders and causing his eyes to well up. “Is that why you were mad at me?”

His vision becomes blurrier as more tears start to well up. He can feel his face turning red and patchy like it always does on the rare occasions when he cries. “We held a ceremony for you. I don’t even believe in that crap.”

“Aw, come here, Kei.” Akiteru pulls him close and wraps his arms around him. “I’m sorry.” He buries his face in the crook of Akiteru’s shoulder. When was the last time he hugged Akiteru? It feels different than before. Muscular arms holding him tight, Akiteru protectively petting the back of his head, he feels safe. He feels like a kid again. He hasn’t felt like a kid since he started this journey.

“Why did they lie?” he asks.

Akiteru strokes his hair again. “I dunno. Maybe to make it easier? Better to squash your hope than let it live on thinking I was still whole.”

“But you _are_ ,” he mumbles.

He feels Akiteru’s chest rumble as he laughs. “Yeah, I am. And I’m gonna stay that way.”  

That’s right - it’s been two years, Akiteru was past the viable age of unwinding. Even if he was caught, the worst they could do was throw him in jail.

“Why didn’t you come back for me?”

Akiteru stops stroking his head and pulls out of the hug. “You...wanted me to come back?” Akiteru asks.

Tsukishima thought that was obvious. But he never looked at it from Akiteru’s perspective.

“Kei, I...I mean, you have to understand that it wasn’t safe for me to leave here, not until I turned eighteen. But if I’d known you wanted me back - I would’ve left in an instant.” Akiteru scratches the back of his neck. “But I didn’t think you would. I - I was a bad influence on you, I thought you hated me and that you’d do better without me. That’s what Mom and Dad thought, anyway.”

“And you believed them?”

“Well, yeah. They’re the adults, our parents. Of course I believed them.”

“Oh.” After hanging around AWOLs for so long, it was easy to forget that there were still kids that bought their parent’s bullshit. Seeing Yamaguchi’s transformation, though, made it easier to understand.  

Tsukishima looks down at his fingers, threading them together in front of him like Akiteru had. Yamaguchi had been right, at least partially, when he blamed Tsukishima’s determination to save Yamaguchi on his guilt about Akiteru. Tsukishima feels like he let Akiteru leave, that he wasn’t loved or didn’t love enough. His anger crystallized around the thought that Akiteru didn’t love him, but now he worries that it was the opposite - that he didn’t love Akiteru enough. “I didn’t hate you.”

“Really?”

“Well. Sometimes.”

Akiteru laughs, and ruffles his hair. Tsukishima bats his hand away.

“Man, you’ve grown,” Akiteru says. He holds his hand up, parallel to the floor, comparing their heights. “You’re nearly as tall as me.”

Tsukishima frowns. “I’m already taller than you.”

Akiteru crosses his arms. “Nope. That’s not allowed.”

Tsukishima stands on his toes and looms over Akiteru, mouth curving into a smirk.

“Noooooo.” Akiteru crouches down, sinking lower as Tsukishima leans further over him, holding his hands in front of his face. “Your height...it’s killing me...my older brother license...it’s being revoked…” Tsukishima bites his lip to keep from laughing.

A flash of a smile peaks out from behind Akiteru’s hands. Tsukishima braces himself for -

A finger jabs him in the stomach. “Ow!” Tsukishima clutches his stomach, accidently letting down his guard. Akiteru goes in for the kill, lunging for his waist and tackling him to the ground. They fall to the floor, each struggling to push the other down.

Akiteru finally pins him down. Tsukishima knows when he’s lost, and stops struggling.

His brother sits proudly on his chest, pointing a finger in Tsukishima’s face. “Ha! _I_ am the tallest now.”

“No fair. You’re buff now.”

“Get on my level.”

“Ugh. You’re so old fashioned.”

Akiteru rolls off his chest and lays on the ground next to him. He wonders if Akiteru was struck with that weird bolt of nostalgia too, memories from when they were younger and they used to play together all the time, and Akiteru used to teach him and Yamaguchi volleyball, and he’d come to Tsukishima’s stupid elementary school plays and they’d complain about Mom’s weird taste in anime and take turns hiding Dad’s keys.

“Hey Kei?” Akiteru says.

“What.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t come back for you.”

Tsukishima gulps. “...’s okay.”

That’s a lie. It’s still not okay, but that’s what Akiteru needs to hear, and what Tsukishima needs to accept. Akiteru didn’t come back, because it was dangerous and he thought he wasn’t wanted. But he would have - he would have if he’d known. And that would have to be enough.

He can practically feel Akiteru’s smile directed at him. He sits up and shoves his hand in Akiteru’s face. “Stop looking at me like that,” Tsukishima says.

Akiteru stands up and ruffles his hair. “I’m glad we had this talk. Now I can stop bothering Yamaguchi.”

Tsukishima snorts. “How often have you been bothering him?”

“About once or twice a day…”

“Oh my god. You’re ridiculous.”

“Almost as ridiculous as you.”

Tsukishima’s stomach rumbles.

“Oh crap,” Akiteru glances at his watch, “we missed lunch. Want me to sneak you some extras?”

“You can do that?”

Akiteru points his thumb at himself. “Perks of knowing a rebel.”

As they make their way down to the cafeteria, a mix of feelings stirs in his gut. For the first time since he left his house more than a month ago, he feels safe. Like a bag finally emptied of its bulging contents, he feels lighter. Still, the bag isn’t empty, some lost items still hiding under its folds. Uncertainty about where their relationship will go, if Akiteru really will stay with him this time, if he’ll stay at the Court. Akiteru found his place here, and so did Yamaguchi, but in the back of his mind, Tsukishima knew this wasn’t where he was supposed to be.

His stomach rumbles again. He refuses to worry about that now. Not when there’s leftovers waiting for him.

“So,” Akiteru says, nudging him, “Yamaguchi tells me you kissed him...wanna tell me - ”

“No.”

Pathetic. Worrying about the future was pathetic. And so was avoiding talking to Akiteru, and so was losing to him in wrestling, and so was thinking Akiteru didn’t love him enough to come back.

 

 

**lx. Kindaichi Yuutarou**

_(Nov. 16)_

 

The van slams to a stop, sending Kindaichi toppling into the person next to him.

“Sorry.” He sits up, pushing himself off his neighbor, but it’s difficult with these stupid handcuffs. His hands flail around, trying to find their footing - handing? - when he squishes something soft -

A shoulder rams into his arm, knocking him to the side. “Watch it!” the person next to him says.

“Sorry, jeez.” _Stupid unwind._ He reaches up to rub his arm, only to remember his handcuffs are attached to the bench when his hands are yanked back.

He hates this. He hates this so much. Stupid adults, always in control of his life. It’s because of them that he wound up here, in a pitch-black van full of unwinds on its way to harvest camp.

“So uh... were you guys sent straight to harvest camp?” Kindaichi asks. His words nearly disappear against the pounding to tires against asphalt. “Or did you try to run?”

No one speaks. The hum of the engine and the scrape of wheels seems to grow louder.

“I got away for a bit,” he says, determined to carry a conversation. “But they busted the safe house I was in.”

Again, silence. This was a stupid idea. Of course they wouldn’t want to talk - they were on their way to harvest camp.

“...yeah, same here,” a voice says. “They caught us as we were making a transfer.”

 _Oh thank god._ He really didn’t want to have a one-sided discussion all the way to harvest camp.

A few others join their conversation, and Kindaichi eats up their gossip. “I heard the Juvies were busting a bunch of safe houses.”

“Shit, really?”

“How are they finding them?”

“Satellites, dude. Duh.”

“No way. That’s illegal.”

“That’s what the government _says_.”

“What do you think will happen if they find all the safehouses?”

“There’s no way that’ll happen. There was this one I stayed at that - ”

“Would you shut up about the safe houses?” his neighbor yells. The van falls silent. “Some of us didn’t even get a chance to find - ”

_Screeeeeech!_

Kindaichi goes flying into his neighbor as the van comes to a halt. The sound of a dozen people breathing hard replaces the engine’s hum.

“Why’d we stop?” someone says. “We’re not...we’re not already there, are we?”

Kindaichi’s wondering the same thing. It’s too soon; he thought he had more time. He’d barely started talking with everybody, they couldn’t possible be at harvest camp yet -

_Slam!_

They all jump.

_Slam! Slam!_

Someone’s pounding on the back doors. Kindaichi can feel them rattling next to him.

_Slam!_

Sunlight floods the interior of the van as the doors burst open. Kindaichi to squint just to make out the two blurry figures in front of him. One of them hops into the van.

“We’ve gotta hurry, so everyone stay calm,” the figure says. Kindaichi blinks, trying to adjust to the brightness. “I’ll come around and unlock all your handcuffs - just be patient.”

That voice - it sounds incredibly familiar. He’s definitely heard it before.

The figure kneels in front of him, and Kindaichi’s vision comes into focus. Immediately, he recognizes him.

“It’s you!” he shouts. It’s that guy - the one from when the safe house was raided. What was his name…?

The guy’s eyes widen when he sees him. He nearly drops his his keys. “Holy fuck...Kindaichi?”

The other figure, some guy with pink hair, looks at them curiously. “Iwaizumi, you know him?”

That’s right - Iwaizumi. He was the other stork.

For a moment, they stare at each other. Kindaichi never expected to see Iwaizumi again. The last time he spoke to him was before he went up to the bathroom. After that, all hell had broken loose. He’d watched from the inside of a Juvey car as Iwaizumi and Kunimi escaped an entire Juvey fleet.

“Wh...what are you doing here?” he asks.

Iwaizumi jingles the keys in his hand and reaches for Kindaichi’s handcuffs. “Breaking you guys out of here, of course.”

Kindaichi wants to laugh. It was somehow fitting - Iwaizumi was hunted by the Juvies, and now he was hunting them. Kindaichi had never heard of anyone standing up to the Juvies before; not like this. It was terrifying and exhilarating and completely crazy.

The lock on his handcuffs clicks open. “I was worried about you.” He takes his hand and helps Kindaichi to his feet, then gives him a pat on the back. “It’s good to see you still alive and whole,” Iwaizumi says.

Kindaichi gives a slight nod. “...you too.”

Pink Hair smacks Iwaizumi on the shoulder. “You can catch up later, we don’t have time for this!” he says.

Iwaizumi nods, and pushes Kindaichi out of the van. “Right - just run like hell,” he tells him. “There’s a safe house at a gas station a few blocks west of here. Should be easy to spot.”

A thrill of excitement goes through him at the mention of a safe house. “They still have those?”

“I was surprised, too.”

Satisfied, Kindaichi hops out of the van. They’ve pulled into an alleyway in the shadows of a trio of tall office buildings, out of side of the road, and any patrolling Juvey cops. A tall kid with sleepy eyes ushers him onward. Kindaichi’s not ready to move on just yet, though.

He jogs into the shade of a perpendicular alleyway. He knows he should be running now, but there’s something compelling about Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi assaulting the van and breaking him out was completely unexpected. No one could have predicted this. And no one could account for what would happen afterwards.

If he’s doing what Kindaichi thinks he’s doing, he needs to be a part of it.  

From behind his corner, he watches the rest of the heist go down. One by one, unwinds file out of the van and take off running. Sleepy Eyes sprays something onto the side of the van. He thinks it says “Aoba Johsai,” but it’s hard to read from here.

He can see now that another one of Iwaizumi’s cronies shot the van driver with a tranq gun. How many people did he have on his side? And holy cow, how did they get ahold of a tranq gun? The Juvies will _not_ be happy about that.

Iwaizumi and Pink Hair jump out of the back of the van. He watches them argue about something with Sleepy Eyes, who’s still holding a the can of spray paint. Now’s his chance.

He creeps out from the alleyway, approaching them slowly like one would a wild beast, hand hovering over his back pocket.

Iwaizumi’s the first to spot him. “Kindaichi!” he shouts. Pink Hair and Sleepy Eyes turn to him in surprise. “Why didn’t you run?” Iwaizumi asks.

“Is this something you do?” Kindaichi asks. “Save unwinds? Take on the Juvey cops?”

Iwaizumi nods. “Yea - ”

“It’s a thing _we_ just started to do,” the Pink Hair says. Iwaizumi shoves an elbow at him.

They may have just begun to do this, but Kindaichi’s seen first hand what Iwaizumi is capable of, not once, but twice. What Iwaizumi was doing - it was going to get much bigger than any of them knows. Kindaichi has to be a part of it. This was his decision that no adult was going to make for him. His people need him, and now is his time to shine.

“I want to join you,” Kindaichi says.

All three of them look at him in surprise. “You sure?” Iwaizumi asks. “It’s not like being in a safe house. We don’t have regular meals, and our living situation is kind of up in the air - ”

“I’m sure.”

At first they’d looked so tall and intimidating, but now Kindaichi can see that he’s just as tall. He holds his head high.

“In that case,” Iwaizumi holds out a hand, “glad to have you.”

Kindaichi grits his teeth and shakes it. He has no idea where this will take him, but he has a duty to be here, and hell if adults are going to stop him this time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you know ss denotes ½ in roman numerals? Neither did i  
> ok i KNOW that reunion was cheesy af but hear me out. Bokuto and Akaashi? Dramatic af. Fight me.  
> me referencing hq wiki for height comparison: Tsukishima and kindaichi and giant stringbeans jesus fuck. lev is supposed to be the stringiest string bean but he's only like an inch and a half taller than them?? my tol boys
> 
> also i brought kindaichi back. hope yall are happy now :)


	19. Squad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seijoh learns how to montage. Kuroo Tetsurou is happy to get a second POV. Yachi Hitoka is also not dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> today is the 1 year anniversary for this fic. Holy fuck. Ive been working on this for a year. This is the longest ive ever worked on a project. I never anticipated it would be so long, but i’m able to keep going thanks to your motivating comments. Thank you all so much for your support!! And shout out to my beta for sticking with me all this time!! Here’s to starting year 2!

**lxi. Aoba Johsai**

_ (Nov. 16) _

 

Yahaba has made the climb a hundred times, but his legs still ache when they reach the summit of the hill. It takes a moment for the others to catch up with him. Their heavy breaths send clouds the cool November air, trailing behind them as they make their way to the castle. 

It stands before them now. Low white walls snake around the forest of oak trees sprawled along the hill. Atop finely cut stone walls sit low buildings spotted with bell-shaped openings. Within the walls, a robust structure five stories high looms like a watchful school teacher. Curving roofs, stacked on top of each other like books, are lined with semi-circular tiles painted pale teal. 

“So, I’m guessing this is where the name comes from?” Kindaichi asks.

“Yup,” Watari tells him. “This is our hideout!”

_ “Temporary _ hideout,” Yahaba adds.

Temporary because the castle is in the middle of town, and the gang would get caught sooner or later if they stayed here too long because these goddamn idiots insisted on spray painting their secret hideout location like a dog pissing on its territory. 

_ Idiots,  _ Yahaba thinks.

Built in the 1600s, the castle stood as a military town for many years until a fire nearly destroyed it. Not as grand as the other castles across Japan, it wasn’t until about a century ago that it was rebuilt and restored. Now, it serves as a relic of the town, a museum housing artifacts and history. 

It also happens to be managed by the Yahaba family. 

After walking out on Irihata, the team had been at a loss for where to go. Turns out Iwaizumi hadn’t had a plan, he was just angry and a dumbass. So Yahaba stepped in and saved the day. Yahaba had grown up in the castle, he knew it as well as the back of his hand, and he knew that his parents never allowed anyone on the top two floors of the main tower. 

Yahaba couldn’t offer them much, but at least he could offer them this. 

He leads the way into the castle grounds, although he’s sure most of them know the way by now. They creep along the outside while until they come across the  _ masugata _ , a low hanging gate that leads into the grounds. It’s not quite a secret entrance, but it’s not open to the public, so there’s no one to spot them sneaking in. 

“Whoa, it’s like a secret entrance,” Kindaichi says. 

“Shh!” 

Kindaichi recoils from Yahaba’s shushing. Yahaba leans in and whispers furiously, “It’s not a secret entrance, so people can hear us if we’re too loud, and then they’ll catch us and we’ll be  _ fucked _ .”  _ Honestly, you’d think these people whose _ lives are literally on the line  _ would have some common sense _ .

“Sorry,” Kindaichi whispers back.

Yahaba takes a left and leads them through a small opening in the wall. It leads them through an underground tunnel that loops around to the  _ tenshukaku _ , the main tower.

One of the only parts of the castle that remained intact, the  _ tenshukaku _ is off limits to the public until it can be renovated. Therefore, it makes the perfect hiding place for a hoard of wanted teens.

They file inside, part the iron doors and past the well, climbing the steep stairs leading up to the fourth floor. Yahaba winces at every squeak of a step, terrified that a security guard or one of his parents will hear and discover them. 

They make it up to the fourth floor, footsteps muted under the tatami mats, and Yahaba lets out the breath he’d been holding.  

This floor looks like a room out of time. Below the exposed beams lining the ceiling lie several cots spread out haphazardly on the floor, blankets in bright colors tangled on top of them. Sunlight streaks across the ground in long, thin lines from the vertical window slits in the wall, while the few electric lanterns doting the floor give off a soft, artificial blue glow. Crumbs from snackfoods cover the tatami mat floor. God, how was he going to clean that up?

_ A problem for another day,  _ Yahaba decides as he pulls out a blanket and a cot from their makeshift closet. If their numbers grew much more, they’d no longer have space to accommodate everyone. He’d have to talk to Iwaizumi about that. 

Their new recruit stands in the middle of the room, hands crossed tightly in front of him, watching the others collapse into their beds. Yahaba throws the blanket at him. “Welcome to the team.”

Kindaichi catches the blanket easily. “Thanks...I think.” 

Watari helps Kindaichi find a place to set up his stuff. Yahaba wanders toward the window. From out a vertical slit, he could see the last remnants of sunlight straining over the edge of the western horizon. He told his parents he’d be back late from Irihata’s. He can’t imagine what they’d do if they found out he was lying. It’d probably nothing compared to what they’d do if they knew he was using their precious castle as a base for an Anti-Unwind guerilla squad.

_ What am I doing? _ Yahaba asked himself this every time he was around Iwaizumi’s group. Yes, he wanted to help them, but this had gotten way out of hand. In the end, though, he had no one but himself to blame. He was the one who brought them here, and kept them fed and comfortable. He feels like Wendy, and Seijoh is his tribe of Lost Boys. A parental figure when he was still a child himself. A caretaker to these boys who were lost in an entirely different way.

It’s kind of terrifying. And it’s kind of thrilling. His conscience is clouded, but he thinks those clouds might be carrying spring rains that  his resolve will grow strong. 

Probably.

 

_ (Nov. 16) _

 

His body is tired, but his mind isn’t. Matsukawa wills the bed to be more comfortable than it is. 

When that doesn’t work, he turns over on his other side, facing one of the windows. Two faint points of light shine against the sliver of black sky. His eyes flutter. He can’t seem to keep them open, but he can’t close them either. 

He felt satisfied, after today’s raid. Nearly a week of planning, on top of adjusting to secretly living in the castle and getting used to each other, and they finally did it. They even gained a new member. 

It felt good. It felt really good. 

But now they’ve been shoved back into limbo. It’s making him anxious. He can’t sleep. 

A hand runs across his shoulder. The touch is light, and he would recognize that hand anywhere. Matsukawa rolls over. Makki is sitting next to him. He pokes Matsukawa’s cheek. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah. You?”

Makki shrugs. Matsukawa gets that. “Okay” isn’t a great word to describe their situation, probable. 

“Wanna cuddle?” Makki asks. 

“Fuck yeah, dude.”

Makki pushes his shoulder, prompting him to roll over, so he does. Makki lies down behind him, scooching up against him so his chest presses against Matsukawa’s back. He presses his forehead against the back of Matsukawa’s neck and wraps an arm around his middle. Matsukawa grabs his hand and squeezes it.

Matsukawa always knew his path in life. He would go to school, go to the local college, and take over his parent’s business once he graduated. When he and Makki started dating, he knew they would spend the rest of their lives together, running the shop. Just a month ago, that’s exactly how he thought his life would go. 

Then they had to pull that stupid prank, and everything went to shit. The prank flopped, the trial commenced, the court-ordered unwind orders were signed. Then Iwaizumi and co. barged into their lives and broke them out of the Juvey station, and then they left Irihata’s safe haven, and now they were fighting in a completely disorganized Anti-Unwinding brigade.  

He doesn’t know what will happen next, and that terrifies him. Would they raid another station, hijack another van? Attack a harvest camp directly, like the Akron AWOL? How long could they keep this up before they were caught? What would happen after it was over? 

It’s the not knowing that bothers him more than any of the potential outcomes, though. Even in troubling times, he had his path to follow, but now he didn’t even have that. His future, ripped from his hands. 

Warm breath trails down the collar of his shirt as Makki falls asleep. Matsukawa rubs circles on the back of his hand. He smiles, slightly, and manages to close his eyes.  

Well, not all of it. 

 

_ (Nov. 17) _

 

Kindaichi sits in a circle with the other AWOLs, Iwaizumi to his left, Kyoutani to his right, Matsukawa and Hanamaki across from him. Iwaizumi said they’d discuss their next plan of action, and Kindaichi’s eager to learn what they’re doing next. What do they have planned this time? Were they going to hijack more vans? Raid a Juvey station for weapons? Contact their spies within the Juvey cops? Liberate a safe house from Juvies? Attack a harvest camp directly? 

They sit in silence for a few moments. The moment feels somber, heavy. As it should - the stuff they were doing was criminal.

Kindaichi leans forward, weight on his knees. He looks between them, waiting for someone to speak. 

“So, Iwaizumi…” Matsukawa begins. “What are we doing next?”

Iwaizumi shrugs. “Dunno.”

Kindaichi sags. Oh. 

“Wait. You don’t have a plan…?” He looks Iwaizumi in disbelief. Their leader doesn’t meet his eyes. 

Hanamaki answers for him. “Not really. We just...make it up as we go.”

“We don’t need a plan when we have a vendetta,” Iwaizumi says. Kyoutani grunts in agreement. 

It’s a pretty badass line, Kindaichi thinks, but his confidence in his decision to join them deflates a little. He thought this was, like, an organized crime syndicate. Ties to the underworld, dangerous ninja-like rebels, plots to disrupt the Juvey organization in this city, a secret hideout stocked with weapons.

Instead, he got a couple of teenage boys with a few tranq guns between them and a ‘vendetta’ more threadbare than a moth-eaten blanket.

Iwaizumi clears his throat. “I’m asking you all for your opinions. What do you think we should do?”

Kindaichi holds his mouth closed. His eyes dart around to everyone. They all look away from Iwaizumi guiltily. They must not have any ideas either. 

“Hijack another van?” Kyoutani finally offers. 

Iwaizumi nods. “Sure. We did a lot of surveillance out for the van hijacking mission. We basically know their schedule now.”

“Surveillance?” Kindaichi asks. 

“Don’t give them too much credit,” Hanamaki says. “By surveillance they mean fucking around near the Juvey station and watching cars come and go.”

“Oh.” Still, it’s impressive that they were able to figure that much out. Maybe they aren’t as hopeless as he thought.

“Hey. Fucking around near a Juvey station is hard work,” Matsukawa says.

Hanamaki pats Matsukawa’s thigh and kisses his cheek. “You’re right, dear. I was mistaken.”

Kindaichi gulps. It’s not that he hasn’t seen a gay couple before. But they were being affectionate and - well - it made him feel…weird. Probably because it was improper. Kindaichi wasn’t about to tell the two giants to stop, though. He was here to make friends, even if it was with people like them. 

“How about you, Kindaichi? Any ideas?” Iwaizumi asks. 

Kindaichi shrugs. Yeah, he needed to be a part of this - Aoba Johsai, whatever it is - but he wasn’t going to plan the rebellion. 

“Let’s just do the van thing,” Hanamaki says. “We did it once, we can do it again.”

“Are you all okay with that?” Iwaizumi asks.

Everyone else nods, so Kindaichi nods with them. 

“Okay. We’ll wait for Yahaba and Watari to get here tonight, we need their help for figuring out the…”

This would be his first raid, his first time fighting on the Anti-Unwinding front as a true rebel. Kindaichi still remembers his first day at a safe house - he never imagined he’d get in so deep. But here he was. Being here was nerve wracking. Any moment, he could be caught. But the same thing that fueled his anxiety also made this whole thing exhilarating. Almost fun. 

Just wait until his dad hears about this. 

 

_ (Nov. 25) _

 

“Why do you still wear your tithing greens?” Iwaizumi asks Kyoutani.

It’s morning. They’re the first two up. Yahaba should be here soon, with breakfast. His stomach was already rumbling. He hadn’t had a chance to eat last night, after their latest van hijacking.

Kyoutani shrugs. “I don’t have any other clothes.”

“That’s your fault.” Speak of the devil. Yahaba waltzes in with a tray of coffee and complaints. He sets the tray down, marches up to Kyoutani, and jabs a finger in his chest. He doesn’t think to step away until it’s too late. “I’ve offered you my clothes a dozen times, but you refuse to take them.”

Kyoutani pushes his hand away, cheeks red. “I don’t want your clothes.” It’s true. He doesn’t want handouts. And he doesn’t want clothes that  _ Yahaba _ wore...maybe not for the same reason Yahaba thinks, but he  _ still _ doesn’t want them. 

“If you keep wearing that, you’re just assenting to what they want,” Iwaizumi tells him. 

Kyoutani throws him the excuse that he always told Yahaba when he bothered him about this. “No. I’m doing this to shove it in their faces. Remind them that they failed.”

“Kyoutani.” Iwaizumi walks over and stands in front of him, taking Yahaba’s place. Kyoutani bites back a grin at the sound of Yahaba’s chagrined huff. “You don’t need to prove anything to them. If wearing tithing green is what you want to do, then fine. But do you know what they’d hate even more than you being alive? Being alive and dressing however the hell you want.”

Iwaizumi places a hand on his shoulder and looks him in the eye. “Also, you smell like garbage. Please change.”

Red surges up his cheeks like floodgates. He admits that Iwaizumi might have a point. Not just about the smell.

It feels strange, being away from his memorium. Going back to the grave had been like picking a scab - he bled every time he went back to it, but he just couldn’t leave it alone. Now that he was here, he finally has to let it heal. Even so, it still itches. Kyoutani has been tempted to leave more than once. He hasn’t been around this many people in years, ever since his thirteenth birthday. He’s forgotten how to live with people. He’s forgotten how to work as a team. 

Seijoh works with him anyway. He doesn’t contribute much to planning, but they give him a job to do and he hasn’t failed to do it yet. The others let him alone when he needs his space and Yahaba drags him back when he gets too far. 

He’s already out of his comfort zone. Why not take it a step further?

“Fine...I’ll consider it.”

He jumps at the dramatic sigh from behind him. “Finally,” Yahaba says. “I can’t believe after all the time I spent grinding you down, you listen to an AWOL pyromaniac stork after two words. Now c’mon, I have a nice black henley that probably wouldn’t look awful on you…”

 

_ (Nov. 27) _

 

To Hanamaki, this thing that they’re doing, this Operation Fuck With The Juvies or whatever, was a hundred times better than the heist they pulled that got them into this mess. 

It was supposed to be a harmless prank, really. Well, maybe not completely harmless. Their motives were never benevolent. But what had the dean expected when he tried to separate the school’s two greatest pranksters? Homophobia was supposed to be dead by now, but their archaically old principal apparently had archaically old views, too. He banned him and Mattsun from going to prom - did the principal really not expect them to retaliate? 

Anyways, Operation Fuck With The Juvies was already going better than the prank they pulled. Mostly because it was actually succeeding. 

(It was an accident that the principal ended up in the hospital. They never meant to do  _ that _ much damage.) 

Hanamaki is incredibly grateful to Iwaizumi for rescuing them, but he’s a little concerned for the guy. Iwaizumi seems a little  _ too _ into this, more driven by anger than hope. Hanamaki’s concerned that he’s going to get carried away and fuck up. The reason being, that happened to  _ him _ . And look how he ended up. 

The point is, Hanamaki knows the signs, and they’re sending off sirens in his head. He resolves to keep an eye on Iwaizumi. Aoba Johsai deserves better than a leader blinded by hate.

 

_ (Nov. 30) _

 

Hijacking vans was becoming their signature move, apparently. They’d just completed their third raid, the night before. Successfully, Watari might add. 

Iwaizumi said he was inspired by a story he heard when he was in the safe houses. Something about unwinds breaking out of a moving vehicle in the middle of a busy Tokyo street. It sounded very valliant. 

Their hijacking wasn’t nearly as sensational, but it got the job done. 

“That’s crazy,” Watari’s classmate says, reading the latest article on the Aoba Johsai hijacking. “This is, what, the second time this month?” 

“Third,” Watari corrects.

It’s weird, hearing other people talk about Aoba Johsai. Not just because he has to hide that he’s a part of it. He’s never heard anyone speak about unwinding so openly before at school. It was mostly taboo, here. He’d only ever heard it talked about twice; once when Yuda was tithed, and once when a senior disappeared after a court ordered unwinding. Even then, the talk would die down after a few days, and it would become taboo again. 

Right now, though, unwinding has become the latest lunchtime gossip. 

“Those people who are doing that are crazy.”

“They’re AWOLs, of course they’re crazy.”

“We don’t know that, they could be rebels - ”

“But people  _ saw _ them, they said they were  _ teenagers _ .”

“Doesn’t matter anyway. The Juvies will round up those AWOL scum in no time.”

“Nuh uh! The Juvies aren’t shit. They haven’t even busted this terrorist group yet.”

“It’s obviously a scam. The Anti-Unwinding Rebellion controls the media, it’s fake news guys.”

“Shut up, dude.”

While he listens to his classmates rave about the mysterious Aoba Johsai, Watari digs into his boiled eggs. Sitting at the desk in front of him, Yahaba preens. He knew Yahaba was proud of what they did, even if he complained endlessly to Watari about the boys when they were alone. 

“I think it’s kind of cool,” someone says. Everyone turns and looks at her. She frowns, and crosses her arms defensively. “I do. It’s cool. Unwinding is savagery. Can you imagine if it was any of  _ us _ in one of those vans?”

“But it wouldn’t be,” the guy sitting next to Watari says. “Only delinquents get unwound. And those religious nuts.”

“That’s  _ bullshit _ ,” Yahaba spits. He leaps out of his chair and jabs an accusing finger in the kid’s face. “If you think that’s the truth, you don’t understand  _ shit _ . Plenty of innocent kids get unwound, just from being in shitty circumstances. Including ‘those religious nuts.’ And even if they have done something wrong it - it doesn’t matter. No one deserves to be unwound.”

The room goes silent. Leaving the kid with an icy glare, Yahaba sits back down at his desk, nose in the air. “Frankly, I think these Aoba people are doing a good thing. Heck, I’d join them if it wasn’t illegal.”

Watari nearly smacks his head on the desk. Yahaba was never good at keeping his mouth shut. Sometimes it’s endearing, but other times, it’s gotten him into trouble.

Instead, he forces a smile and says, “I think what Yahaba’s trying to say is…” How the hell is he supposed to fix this? “...it’s too bad that some people have to be, have to retire so that the rest of us could live happily. In a perfect world where no one got hurt or sick, it could be like that, but that’s just not how reality works. That’s what you meant,  _ right _ Yahaba?”

He stares at his friend pointedly, trying to convey his meaning through his tone. 

For a moment, Yahaba stares back. Finally, he mutters “...sure.”

“That’s right, don’t you have an unwind part, Watari?” one of the classmates says. 

Watari nods. His hand unconsciously moves to the side of his head, to where the incision from surgery was. There’s no scar. The doctors had covered it up with a skin graft.  

None of the AWOLs in Aoba Johsai know, of course. He doesn’t know what they’d think of him, if they did. He hadn’t wanted the surgery, but...he doesn’t know if they would understand. 

“Wait, really? What part did you get?”

“Whoa, what’s it like, having another person’s parts in you?”

“Do you ever hear their thoughts?”

“Did you see the rest of the body?”

“What’s wrong with you?”

Watari answers the last question mechanically, as he has many times before. “I had a brain disorder.” He tries to be open about his surgery to show compliance, but it was still hard to talk about it. He needs to answer their questions, even though they were rude.  

“It’s none of your business, that’s what,” Yahaba says, spinning around again. He glares at them all, each in turn. They dissipate slowly, forming their own groups, far away from Watari and Yahaba.  

“Thanks,” he tells his friend. 

“Of course. Thank you, too. I don’t know what I was thinking, running my mouth like that…”

Watari shrugs. “It’s something you’re passionate about.”

“Yeah, but they can’t know that.”

He’s right. They can’t. It’s one more secret Watari has to keep. His beliefs about unwinding from his parents and his classmates, his surgery from his friends in Aoba Johsai, 

The most ironic thing of all? The surgery hadn’t even worked. He had someone else’s brain bits in his head for nothing. He was still asexual. The replacement parts had done nothing to give him the sexual attraction and libido his parents and doctor thought he needed to be healthy. He had to pretend it worked, though, for his parents. Or else, who knows what they’d try to put in his head. 

In the meantime, he’ll keep his secrets, he’ll keep pretending. He’ll make amends for having an unwind’s parts, for being part of problem. 

 

_ (Dec. 3) _

 

_ Pft! _

Right before the Juvey cop sees Iwaizumi, a tranquilizer dart blooms in her shoulder. Her jaw goes slack and she falls face forward.

Iwaizumi whips around and look to where the dart came from. It didn’t make sense. He was supposed to be the only one surveying this part of the tranq gun factory. 

There, sticking up from behind a counter fifty feet behind him, is a patch of stick straight black hair. A head pokes over the edge - Kindaichi.

Had he had the shot from there? Iwaizumi’s impressed. He knows from Oikawa how difficult it is to fire a tranquilizer gun. Kindaichi brought more skills with him that he bargained for. He’s damned grateful for that. Another moment, and that cop would have seen him and sounded the alarm, ruining the whole operation. 

Iwaizumi gives him a nod.

Kindaichi nods back. He gives Iwaizumi the signal to go ahead. 

Iwaizumi makes a note: they have a marksmen among their ranks. 

 

That night, Iwaizumi finds Kindaichi sitting against a wall, away from everyone else. His gangly knees fold up against his chest, and he’s fiddling with something in hands. 

Iwaizumi sits down next to him. Kindaichi tenses up, so Iwaizumi keeps some space between them. “What’s that?” he asks.

“A Tamagotchi 2.”

“A gaming device?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

For a few minutes, he watches Kindaichi play on the game. Like the name implies, the device is shaped like an egg. On the screen, a weird little animal wanders around. Kindaichi seems to be playing with it and feeding it. Iwaizumi didn’t peg Kindaichi for the type to enjoy a game like this, but he’s undoubtedly focused. He’s exactly the opposite of Kenma. While Kenma played the game with a passive, unreadable expression on his face, short legs splayed out, Kindaichi crouched over his game, long limbs close to his body, face scrunched. 

It’s been nearly three weeks since Kindaichi joined their ranks. He still tends to distance himself from the others. He seems...different than when Iwaizumi talked to him the first time, before the Juvies breached the safe house. Less moody, more anxious. 

He once asked Kindaichi what happened between the time that they were separated at the safe house and when they rescued him in the van. Kindaichi said he didn’t want to talk about it. Iwaizumi understands. Whatever it is he had to go through...it couldn’t have been pretty. 

“Why are you so good with a tranq gun?” Iwaizumi asks. 

Kindaichi flushes. “I’m not - ”

Iwaizumi raises an eyebrow. 

Kindaichi turns off his game. He folds his legs over his knees and rests his chin on them. “My dad is a juvey cop.”

“Oh.” That explained a lot. Iwaizumi bets he was just like Oikawa. No - Kindaichi was more like himself. A fellow stork, indoctrinated by his father with bullshit about the virtues of unwinding, only to have his world turn upside down. Tossed violently out of his worldview, left either to justify his own or reconstruct the way he sees the world. Kindaichi was taking it a little harder, though. He sees it in his conflicting actions and thoughts. Insisting that his parents wouldn’t unwind him, yet fleeing home as an AWOL. Obviously being uncomfortable with the idea of fighting back, yet demanding to join them anyway. 

There was only so long he could hold onto his old feelings, though. Iwaizumi would teach him to turn his confusion into anger, and then show him how to harness that anger against the people who did this to him. 

“How are you feeling? About all of this?”

Kindaichi shrugs. “It’s...different. Than what I expected.”

“What did you expect?”

“...more organization.”

Iwaizumi laughs. “Yeah, I have a lot of strengths, but that’s not really one of them.” Organization, planning, and discipline was more of Oikawa’s area of specialty. 

For a brief moment, Iwaizumi flirts with the fantasy that Oikawa was here with them, a part of Aoba Johsai. They’d always worked well as a team. Between Oikawa’s cleverness and Iwaizumi’s strength, they’d be unstoppable.  

It’d never happen, of course. He pushes the thought away forcefully.

“It’s more than that,” Kindaichi says eventually. “I - I used to, um, think unwinding was a good thing. Before I was a - an AWOL myself. Duh.”

Iwaizumi nods. “A lot of us did, including me.”

Kindaichi’s eyebrows shoot up. “Really? I would have thought, with your, uh, passion - ”

“Yeah, that came  _ after _ the Juvey cops showed up at my doorstep and ripped me away from my life. That doesn’t diminish my anger, though. It makes me angrier, actually, to think they had me believing in that bullshit.”

Kindaichi tugs his sleeves down to his wrists. Somehow, this fifteen year old is taller than him, so just like Matsukawa and Hanamaki, he must suffer through shirts and pants that are the slightest bit too small on him. 

“I’ve changed now, too, but...it’s...hard to break old habits, I guess? I don’t know. I don’t fit in here. Sometimes I think it’s wrong for me to be here. That I should just, uh, turn myself in.”

Iwaizumi grits his teeth. He wishes a hundred curses upon Kindaichi’s father for training his brain to think backwards.

Kindaichi goes on. “But then today, freeing those kids - it felt really good. This one girl, she thanked me, and hugged me, and I - !” He gulps. “I just don’t know what to think anymore, I guess.”

He puts an arm around Kindaichi. “It’s okay. Give yourself time. But Kindaichi - ” Iwaizumi grasps his shoulders and looks him in the eye. “You did good today. You should be proud.”

“Th-thanks.”

For the first time since deciding he would fight back against the Juvies, Iwaizumi wonders if this if what they’re doing is effective in fighting unwinding. Fighting the Juvies, sure. Yahaba’s proudly pulled up the news for them - they’ve made fools out of the Juvies. 

But was it enough? In the long term, was this an effective way to end unwinding? A process so ingrained in society that entire businesses revolved around it? Would it be enough to change people’s minds?

Maybe that’s the wrong question. He should be asking, Do they  _ have _ to change people’s minds? The only ones he knows who see unwinding for what it is are the rebels and AWOLs. AWOLs like himself and Kindaichi, and people like Yahaba and Watari, who have been personally touched by unwinding in their lives, are the only ones who have changed their minds. What about the people like Oikawa? Like Kindaichi’s dad? The ones who’ve only benefited from unwinding? Would they ever be able to change their minds without feeling the effects of unwinding?

Iwaizumi suspects the answer it no. 

And if that’s the case, what Aoba Johsai is doing will have to be enough. They just - they just need to be more aggressive. That’ll show the public. If they’re aggressive, even the bigots and hypocrites would have to listen to their demands. 

Time to go back to the drawing board. They need to change their strategy. Rebel so loudly that no one can ignore their screams.  

  
  
  
  


**lxii. Kuroo Tetsurou**

_ (Nov. 17) _

 

_ Sitting on the bed in the medical bay, Kuroo kicks his legs back and forth. His hands grip the edges of the bed. He’s not sure why he’s been called back here; he already had his yearly physical, and he wasn’t feeling sick. _

_ Finally, after a few more anxious minutes of silence, a nurse comes in. She carries a tray with a syringe on it.  _

_ “What’s that for?” Kuroo asks.  _

_ The nurse smiles at him and sets the tray down. “I’m just gonna draw a little blood from you,” she says as she sits him back against the bed. She grabs a wipe and swabs the inside of his forearm.  _

_ Kuroo tries to stay still, even though he wants to rip his arm away. “Why?” _

_ “Don’t worry, you’re not sick or anything,” she says. “Thanks to new breakthroughs in medical science, we’re finally able to figure out your exact age, just by drawing a little blood. All the kids at the staho are gonna go through it, too.” _

_ Kuroo’s brows raise slowly. Because most of the kids at the staho had once been storks, they were not only parentless, but birthday-less, too. Barely any of the kids at the staho knew their true ages. That meant no birthday parties, no gifts or celebrations of any kind.  _

_ The nurse ties off the top of his arm and pokes at a vein in the crick of his elbow. “We’ll process your blood through the machine, and the DNNs will analyze it for biomarkers, and then it will tell us your birthday.”  _

_ “That’s...actually pretty cool.”  _

_ “Isn’t it?” Finally, the nurse picks up her syringe. “Now dear, hold still for me, you’ll only feel a pinprick.” _

_ Kuroo turns his head so he doesn’t have to look. He can barely feel the pain, so giddy from daydreams about his birthday. He hopes it’s on a special day,. He wonders if he’ll share a birthday with any famous people. This year, when his birthday comes around, he can finally celebrate it. Even if it’s only him and Kenma, and there are no gifts or cake, he’ll be happy, because he’ll finally know.  _

 

_ A week later, he and all the other staho kids gather in front of the announcement screen. The older kids push their way to the front, but once they leave, Kuroo scrambles his way to the front, Kenma in tow.  _

_ On the screen is a list of all their names, plus their birthday and age. It takes Kuroo a couple times looking through the jam-packed list to find his name. It’s there, right in the middle: Kuroo Tetsurou. November 17. 11 years old. _

_ It’s less magical than he thought it’d be. There are no fireworks, or a feeling of wholeness, like he suddenly feels fulfilled. He didn’t even realize that’s what he’d been expecting until it doesn’t come.  _

_ It’s okay, though. He’s sure that when his birthday comes, it will definitely feel magical. He’s going to make it feel magical. He can’t wait until his birthday - it’s going to be the best day ever.  _

 

Seventeen on the seventeenth - it’s his golden birthday. It doesn’t feel very golden. 

Back at the staho, birthdays had been fun. The year he found out about his birthday had been one of the best days ever. His dorm mates sang him happy birthday when he woke up. Kuroo convinced the cooks to make him a cake, which he shared with Kenma in the dorm. They played a new video game all night, Kuroo falling horribly behind Kenma, but that was okay. 

He doesn’t expect much out of today. He doesn’t really want anything, to be honest. The only thing exciting about seventeen was that it was only one more year until his unwind order became invalid. One more year until freedom. Well, kind of. 

At least they’re here, at the Court, and not in the safe houses, like they were for Kenma’s birthday. He hadn’t even had his game to play that day, since the guy from Shiratorizawa took it to charge. And play it too, apparently. 

Things with Kenma had been weird lately. He feels like he hardly ever sees his best friend any more. They went from being in each other’s presence literally 24/7 to only seeing each other for half a day. It wasn’t that Ukai worked them to the bone - all of their shifts were pretty light - but his work time and Kenma’s were staggered, so Kuroo only really saw him during meals, mornings, and nights. 

It was lonely without Kenma by his side. He just wants that familiar, comforting presence by his side. But Kenma’s down in IT, while Kuroo’s working seven floors up. 

He wonders if Kenma feels the same. He hasn’t had the chance to ask. Or maybe he’s just afraid to. Afraid that Kenma will say the space is good for them, that he’s outgrown Kuroo.

_ That’s ridiculous, _ a part of him thinks.

_ Is it, though? _ says the other.

 

Ten minutes before his shift is over, Kenma grabs his hand, drags him away from the gardens, and doesn’t let go.

“Kenma, where are you taking me?” Kuroo says, letting himself be pulled down the stairwell. 

The only response he’s offered is a mumbled, “Shut up.” 

“Fine. Be that way.”

He watches Kenma’s hair bob as they hop down the stairs. His hair touches his shoulders now, roots grown out to right above his ears. It should look horrible, but it doesn’t. Kenma somehow makes it work. 

They stop outside of a closed door on the fourth floor. There’s no one else around, which is weird, because the Court is a pretty damn crowded place. 

Kenma opens the door and shoves him inside.

“Surprise!”

Bokuto, Akaashi, and Akaashi’s bodyguard stand in front of a cake. A real cake, poorly frosted in white and red icing. 

Kuroo brings his hands up to his face. “You guys…”

Bokuto throws an arm around his shoulders and ruffles his hair. “Happy birthday bro! Man, I can’t believe you didn’t tell us, if Kenma hadn’t said anything we would have totally missed it!”

Kuroo glances back at Kenma, “You little shit,” he says with a smile. 

Kenma shrugs, like he’s saying,  _ Yeah, I know. _

He points to the monstrosity on the table. “Is that a birthday cake?”

“Yes.”

“How did you get this?”

Kenma shrugs. “It was Akaashi’s idea.”

“Is that so?”

Akaashi smiles. “You should be thanking Akiteru. He’s the one who got the cake for us.”

Akiteru shrugs. “It was no big deal.”

But it is a big deal, and Kenma knew that. It hadn’t been that long since Akaashi arrived at the Court, so this is only the second or third time Kuroo has talked to him since the safe house. And he went out of his way to request a cake for Kuroo. It almost hurts his heart how grateful he is to all of them. 

He points at Akiteru. “Are you the hugging type?”

“Heck yeah I am.”

Kuroo gives Akiteru a big hug, then Bokuto a big hug, then he pats Akaashi and Kenma on the heads because they can only escape so much affection from him. 

They spend the next hour digging into the cake, which tastes much better than it looks. Akaashi catches him up on all the things that happened since they went their separate ways in safe houses, and Akiteru tells him about how he ended up as a volunteer at the Court. It turns out he has a little brother here, and his brother is friends with Yamaguchi, one of the people Kuroo works with.  _ Small world,  _ he thinks. 

It’s not like his first birthday. But Kuroo decides it’s the best birthday he’s ever had, anyway. He considers it not just a celebration of being born, but of staying alive. Of being whole. Kuroo’s continued existence was a rebellion, and his birthday was a hallmark to the fact that they haven’t caught him yet.  _ Take that, Juvey shits. One more year, and you can’t touch me. _

After a while, Bokuto says that he has to get back to work, and Akaashi says he has to as well. Akiteru leaves with them, leaving Kuroo alone with Kenma. He throws the plastic plates away - not a single slice of cake remains - and clears off the table. 

“Do you have to get back to work, too?” Kuroo asks Kenma.

He nods. 

“Okay. I’m gonna go down to the court, then. See if they need an extra player or something. Thanks again, Kenma. All this - it meant a lot to me.”

Kenma huffs. “It was nothing.”

“Nah, it was something.”

Kenma’s cheeks flush, and Kuroo takes that as his cue to leave. Before he can go, though, he feels a tug at his sleeve. “Wait,” Kenma says.

Kuroo turns around. He almost bumps into Kenma, he’s standing so close.  

“Um…”

Kenma looks up at him, not quite meeting his eyes, brows slightly drawn together. Is something wrong? Kenma stands perfectly still, as he usually when he’s nervous. Kuroo watches his face for signs of distress. He looks down toward his feet, long lashes shading his cat-like golden eyes. Kuroo’s eyes are drawn to his mouth. He bites his bottom lip, nibbling it between his teeth. Kuroo finds himself leaning closer, as if trying to see the secret hidden between Kenma’s lips. 

“I need to tell you something,” Kenma says. “Kuroo, I…”

He meets Kuroo’s eyes. Now Kuroo’s the one who’s frozen. Kuroo has never seen this expression on his face before, and he doesn’t know what it means, but right now, Kenma looks like an angel, and Kuroo is overcome with the desire to kiss him.

_ Oh.  _

That...that explains some things. 

Something changes then. Kenma shuffles back and forth, and gives him a small smiles. Then he wraps Kuroo in a hug. “Happy birthday,” he says into Kuroo’s shoulder.

Kuroo loves getting hugs from Kenma, especially since Kenma hardy ever shows this level of affection, but something about this feels off. Kuroo’s sure Kenma was planning something else. 

...was Kenma about to confess? 

Before Kuroo can pester him, Kenma runs off. Kuroo had wanted to kiss Kenma. That must mean he likes Kenma. Like-likes him. And Kenma - if Kuroo as reading him right, which he usually was - maybe like-liked him back.

Holy shit. He has  _ so _ many things to deal with. 

 

**lxiii. Yachi Hitoka**

_ (Nov. 19) _

Yachi imagined barbed wires caked with dried blood. She imagined being thrown into a tiny room in an imposing concrete building with bars on the windows, or no windows at all, only a thin cot to cling to. She imagined sinister smiles, doctors in blood soaked scrubs poking and prodding her with twisting metal instruments. She imagined the smell of blood would follow her like a dog, that the screams of unwinds would rush down echoing hallways, that she would be snatched from her room in the dead of night.

In reality, harvest camp is...absolutely nothing like that.

“Thank you, Hitoka, that will be all.”

The nurse takes the swab of Yachi’s saliva and puts it in a tiny tube. 

Yachi scoots to the edge of the examination bed. “That…that’s it?” 

The nurse smiles at kindly her and nods. “For now.”

The hair on Yachi’s arms sticks up.

“We’ll be conducting another check up in a week’s time,” the nurse says. “See if we need to make any adjustments to your diet and exercise plan. For now, Okada will walk you back to your dorm.” She nods to the door. She must mean the security guard Yachi passed coming in here.

Yachi hops off the bed and scrambles out of the room. She almost feels guilty for being so rude to the nurse. Almost.

She follows Okada out of the facility, two steps behind him. The way the nurse had said it sounded like he was politely escorting her back, but Yachi knows better. She knows Okada isn’t so much a polite escort as he is an armed guard. 

Mt. Taihaku Harvest Camp sprawls across a beautiful mountain. The view from any building is gorgeous, scenic. Apparently photographers often came to capture its beauty (they weren’t allowed to turn their cameras on the unwinds. Or maybe they didn’t want to.) A dozen buildings dot the premises, large, elegant structures that combined traditional Japanese castle architecture with a woodsy, American cabin vibe. They were tall, with curving roofs, carved out of dark wood. Soft moss grew up the sides of some. A bubbling stream cuts through the middle of camp, arching wooden bridges stretching across it. A couple of stone lanterns hover near the main paths, artificial worn to look old and weathered. 

The sports courts were kept clean. Sweet and spicy smells wafted out of the dining hall. Nature’s ambience danced in their ears, wind shaking down leaves, animals pattering around at night, the last of the cicadas giving their final calls. 

Unwinds, “our pleasured guests,” as the staff referred to them, were welcome in every building, except two. One was the parts cellar. Kids called it “The Fridge.” The other was the hospital, where unwinding took place. They didn’t call the hospital anything at all.

Yachi follows the security guard along a wide stone path from the hospital back to her dorm. It’s dark out now. Lights turn on as they walk along the path. Aside from that, the only light comes from the stars and the slivered moon. 

They cross the wooden bridge and pass the dining hall. Okada begins to veer off the path, toward the girl’s dorm. 

“Um, sir!”

Okada turns around.

“I – I actually don’t, um, don’t live there. In the girl’s dorm. I’m assigned in, um, to the  _ other _ dorm.”

“Sorry. My mistake.” He heads in the direction of the boys dorm.

“Actually! I’m actually in the, um, the…GNC dorm.”

“Oh. The  _ other _ dorm.”

The other dorm is on the west edge of camp, much further away, so they continue down the stone path.

There are four dorms in the camp. First, there was the girl’s dorm and the boy’s dorm, located on opposite sides of the dining hall. That was where all the regular unwinds lived. Then there was the tithe’s dorm, way over on the east side of the camp. The tithes and the “terribles” are kept separate. The tithes have their own part of the camp, a duplicate dining hall, sports courts, training facility, welcome center. There are only two facilities they shared between them: the hospital, and the Fridge. It seemed being reduced to pieces was the great equalizer.

Lastly, there’s the GNC dorm. That’s where Yachi lives.  _ For now,  _ the nurse’s voice reminds her.

They follow the stone path around the perimeter of the camp. There are no gates at Mt. Taihaku Harvest Camp. There was no need for them, because the camp sat on a protrusion from a steep cliff face. Climb up, and risk being spotted. Climb down, and risk fall to your death.

The GNC dorm is a small building attached to the Fridge. Naturally, no one ever came near it, unless they were fortunate enough to live there. Unlike the towering apartments of the girl’s and boy’s dorms, the GNC dorm was only one story tall. Including Yachi, it housed three unwinds.

“Alright, get inside now,” Okada says. “You have a nice night.” Yachi hurries in, closing the door quickly behind her.

Away from the prying eyes of the harvest camp staff, she lets out a deep breath.

Somehow, this was more unsettling than the version in her head could ever be. Yachi knew it was a facade, but sometimes it was easy to forget why they were here. The rich meals, the camp activities, the naturalistic atmosphere, her almost-friendship with Ennoshita and Futakuchi. It was a perfect costume disguising the true horror of harvest camp. But in the end, they all knew what was underneath. Someone’s spot would be empty at mealtime, and they would remember where they were.

“Such a big sigh from such a small girl.”

Yachi glances up as Futakuchi rolls into the room, followed by Ennoshita. “You’re back late,” Ennoshita says.

The GNC dorm isn’t very big. Their living room us just big enough to hold two couches and a table. To the left, a bathroom with two sinks, a shower, and a toilet. To the right, five rooms – more like closets – with a cot and a dresser each.

“I had a check up,” Yachi says. “It – it wasn’t what I expected.” 

Ennoshita sits down on one of the couches, and Futakuchi parks his wheelchair next to him. “What did you expect?” Futakuchi asks.

Yachi sits down on the couch across from them. “More…more poking and prodding, I guess…” More discomfort, more blood. Laying her down on a table, dissecting her parts, measuring up her organs and calculating their worth - 

Futakuchi laughs. “If you’re worried they’re gonna cut you up, don’t be. You’re in the GNC dorm. You’ll be here a while.”

They’d told her that, when she first arrived. They said GNC people lived the longest, when they were explaining what exactly GNC was. 

“Gender Nonconforming,” Ennoshita had clarified. “We host everyone who the doctors don’t know what to do with because they can’t cleanly sort their parts under “male” and “female” labels. It’s kind of a misnomer, but, well. The cis tried.” He had explained how it started off with intersex and gender nonconforming people, but the staff expanded their horizons to include other people, including disabled people, the terminally ill, and immigrants. “So, in order to be more inclusive, we’ve expanding the definitions of our acronym. Gender Nonconforming, Genetically Notorious Candidates, Gentle Non Complaints, Generally Not Cullable, take your pick.”

“I prefer the term Gorgeous Noble Celestials, personally” Futakuchi had said, mouth curved in a smirk Yachi would soon grow used to.

It didn’t take long for Yachi to figure out why she was here. She had dual citizenship, here and in Thailand, where her mother was from. It was one of the only countries in the world where unwinding was banned. The harvest camp staff probably had to work out some legal issues regarding that. Until then, she’d be here, in the GNC dorm with the other kids they didn’t know what to do with.

“How long have you been here?” Yachi asks. 

“Me?” Futakuchi says. “Uh…three months? Give or take a few weeks?”

“Wow…” Yachi had heard from the other girls that people usually lasted between two weeks and a month.

Futakuchi pats Ennoshita’s leg. “I’ve got nothing on ‘Shita here, though.”

Ennoshita smacks his shoulder. “I told you not to call me that.”

“Ow! Jeez, those skinny arms pack a punch…” 

Futakuchi was the first person she’d ever seen use a wheelchair. With the medical advances of unwinding, they were nearly as uncommon as glasses. A broken spine could easily be replaced in a simple surgery. Even some genetic diseases could be virtually cured through transplants.

Yachi wonders why Futakuchi is in a wheelchair. But the laws for unwinding disabled people were vague enough to keep him alive for these last few months, so that’s as good a reason as any.

“How – how long have you been here, Ennoshita?”

“Well, it’s a little hard to determine, but…” He counts on his fingers. “Ten months total?”

“Ten months!” That seemed like an eternity compared to three months, let alone two weeks. “Hold on…what do you mean, total?”

Ennoshita scratches the back of his neck. “Well, it’s a long – ”

“‘Shita escaped,” Futakauchi interrupts. “And then got captured again, because he’s a dumbass.”

Ennoshita smacks him again. “As I was saying, it’s a long story but it’s  _ my _ story, so if you’ll kindly shut the fuck up…”

“I never do anything kindly,” Futakuchi mumbles. But he keeps his lips sealed.

Ennoshita rolls his eyes. “I had only been here for a month. This is back before they realized I was intersex, so they placed me in the boy’s dorm. I was sharing a room with a few other guys, and one night, there was a knock on the window. There was this guy out there, this kid, smirking with a finger to his lips. Rebels had come to get us out. Later we found out his name was Suga, and he was part of an organization called Karasuno…” 

  
  


**_lxiv. Doctor’s Assistant_ **

_ (Nov. 19) _

It always bugged the doctor’s assistant that their base of operations was inside a harvest camp, but her annoyance has turned into resentment. Now that they had spies to weed out where the rebel’s safe houses were, the Juvey cops had been conducting raids almost weekly. 

She admires the cleverness of the idea. Send Junior Juvies out into the wild posing as AWOLs, wait until some poor soul takes pity on them and directs them to a safe house. Get the location, raid the safe house for AWOLs, shut down the rebel operation one by one.

But damn the one came up with it. The raids meant a massive influx of unwinds. The harvest camp wasn’t built to hold this many people, and the staff wasn’t large enough to unwind them fast enough.

She doesn’t care if it’s clever, or for the good of society. It’s interrupting her work. Instead of focusing on studying the rewind, she has to assist in an additional unwinding procedure every day. An extra three hours she has to be awake. She’s drowning in coffee and can still barely keep her eyes open.

The next time she sees the doctor, while prepping for a procedure, she confronts him about this. “I don’t understand why we can’t move to a separate facility,” she says.

That’s a lie. She knows exactly why. Harvest camp has the state of the art tools they need to conduct this research. Moving their equipment would be costly and possibly dangerous. But those problems were miniscule compared to -

“Stop lying. You know we have to be near the rewind.” He lines up his instruments on the tray, glinting silver under the fluorescent lights.

“Sir, our operation would run much smoother if we were to put him in an isolated, contained enviro – ”

“He is on the verge of a breakdown, right now,” the doctor interrupts forcefully.

_ On the verge of one? He’s already had several. _

Wrinkled fingers adjust the tools, lining them up perfectly parallel. “The stress of revealing the truth to him, from moving him to an isolated environment, could set him off completely,” the doctor says. “And then, all of our research – lost. Our private contract – torn to shreds.”

“He could handle it.”

The doctor lets out of a huff. “Don’t kid yourself.”

“I’m not.” The doctor’s assistant slams her hands on the tray, rattling the instruments out of place. She forces him to meet her eye. “Listen, I know him. I’ve watched that boy for his every waking moment since he left the facility. I’ve seen every movement he’s made, heard every comment he’s spoke, analyzed the every interaction he’s had. The only thing I can’t know about him are his thoughts, and even those slip through from time to time.”

She knows the rewind more intimately than she’s known anyone in her life. To say otherwise would be in insult to her dedication. “That’s why you wanted me to watch him, right? To judge his character? To see if our modifications were effective? Well they are. He’s not weak. He could handle the transition.”

The doctor doesn’t answer. He knows she’s right. When it comes to his enemies, the rewind spares no mercy. When it comes to his compatriots, he is soft, but firm. If it weren’t for the breakdowns, he’d be the perfect soldier. The perfect leader.

The doctor’s assistant suspects that knowing the truth would help him rather than harm him. She’s gathered that he’s experiencing dysphoria and dissociation; perhaps knowing the root cause would help him pinpoint how to fix his problem.

“I’ll consider it,” the doctor says. He takes a long look at the tray, and begins lining up the instruments again, one by one. “The truth is, we may have no choice in the matter. I sense something brewing. Recently the rebel voices have gotten louder. You’ve heard of the van hijackers? They’re not too far from here. What they call themselves, Aoba…Aoba – ”

“Johsai,” she supplies.

“Yes, them.” He sighs. “I’ve been talking it over with Takeda.” Her lip curls at the mention of the nurse’s name. She knows he’s been sneaking in to observe the rewind. She can’t do anything about it though, not when he has the doctor’s permission. “It doesn’t sit right with me. First the rebels at Taikaku, and now this. Spies among the AWOLs. I heard there might even be spies among the Juvies. These are the ingredients for a powder keg.”

_ And we’re in the middle of it, _ he doesn’t say. He doesn’t have to. The doctor’s assistant knows.

She doesn’t understand his fears. It just seems like superstition to her. Unwinding has always been a tumultuous practice. There have always been proponents and dissenters. But the practice stands firm – unwinding is here to stay. It needs to stay that way, for her to do her research and make her fortune.

“The only powder keg they should be concerned about is the one in this harvest camp,” she says. “If they overwork us anymore, I’m going to collapse.” The only good part about the doctor’s fears was that it might get her what she wants in the end. If that’s what it takes, so be it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me writing this fic: how many plotlines can i throw together before i hate myself?
> 
> notes about this chapter:  
> \- i know japan doesn't have proms BUT with the amount of cultural exchange going on bc of globalization _it could be_  
>  \- I may write a one shot further explaining watari’s situation  
> \- ~~i recently learned that Tamagotchi is a pun that combines "egg" and "friend" and how fucking adorable is that???~~ jk the [tamagotchi wiki](http://tamagotchi.wikia.com/wiki/Tamagotchi) says otherwise  
>  \- Just like with bokuto and his adhd, and oikawa being trans, if im doing anything wrong/problematic as im writing futakuchi and ennoshita, please don’t hesitate to call me out. Im trying my best to be informed and respectful but we all make mistakes ^_^

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos always appreciated!! come rant to me on [tumblr](http://satyr-syd.tumblr.com) about haikyuu/unwind/literally anything


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